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RALPH 

THE DRUMMER BOY 

A STORY OF THE DAYS OF WASHINGTON 


/ BY 

LOUIS ROUSSELET 

TRAN SLA TED B Y 
W. J. GORDON 

ILLUSTRATED 


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NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
1884. 





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vS 'V 







THE GREAT 
AMERICAN WARS. 

TOLD FOR YOUNG FOLKS. 


THE WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 

ROUSSELET’S RALPH THE DRUMMER BOY. 

A story of a boy of the French Auxiliary Army in 
the American Revolution. By Louis Rous- 
SELET. Translated by W. J. Gordon. With 
12 full page illustrations and numerous others 
throughout the text. i2mo. 

THE WAR FOR THE UNION. 

THOMAS’S CAPTAIN PHIL. 

A Boy’s experience in the Western Army during 
the War of the Rebellion. By M. M. Thomas. 
With II full page illustrations. i2mo. 

CHAMPLIN’S YOUNG FOLKS’ HISTORY 
OF THE WAR FOR THE UNION. 

By John D. Champlin, Jr. Author of the 
Young Folks’ Cyclopaedia, etc. Copiously illus- 
trated with Maps, Plans of Battles, Portraits, 
Views and Pictures of special objects of interest. 
Large i2rao. 


HENRY HOLT & CO., Publishers, 



Ralph Haudry beat the charge. 


Page 276. 







s z 


n 

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER I. 

PAGB 

LA CHARMOISE I 

CHAPTER II. . 

MASTER LELOUP ....... 10 

CHAPTER TII. 

THE ROYAL AUVERGNE 20 

CHAPTER IV. 

SERGEANT LA RAMEE 32 

CHAPTER V. 



THE DRUMMER S LESSONS 


39 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VI, 

THE CAMP AT NEWPORT 

CHAPTER VH. 

THE colonel’s ORDERLY 

CHAPTER VHI. 

the interview at HARTFORD 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE marshal’s MESSAGE 

CHAPTER X. 

THE ROAD TO WEST POINT . 

CHAPTER XI. 

BENEDICT ARNOLD 

CHAPTER XH. 

TREASON 

CHAPTER XIII. 

AN EYE FOR AN EYE 

CHAPTER XIV. 


PAGE 

49 

. 6o 

. 68 

• 78 

• 87 

. 102 

. 112 

. 123 


RED FOX 


136 


CONTENTS. vii 


CHAPTER XV. 

PAGE 

ACADIA 143 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE NIGHT LA FORTUNE WAS ON GUARD . . 155 

CHAPTER XVH. 

THE FIGHT ON THE DELAWARE .... 162 

CHAPTER XVIH. 

THE COURT-MARTIAL 172 

CHAPTER XIX. 

THE FIRING PLATOON I 79 

CHAPTER XX. 

A NEW FRIEND 1S8 

CHAPTER XXI. 

pierre’s enlistment 19^ 

CHAPTER XXH. 

Washington’s plan 204 


CONTENTS. 


viii 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A NOCTURNAL VISITOR . 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

BEFORE YORKTOWN 


CHAPTER XXV. 

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS’ LEAVE 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE GREAT SWAMP 

CHAPTER XXVH. 

THE PATRIOT INN .... 

CHAPTER XXVHI. 

CAUGHT IN THE TOILS . 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE CAPTURE OF 'THE REDOUBT . 

CHAPTER XXX. 

CONFIDENCES 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE SURRENDER OF YORKTOWN 


PAGE 

215 


225 


234 


243 


250 


257 


269 


279 


288 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

TO EACH ACCORDING TO HIS WORKS 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 


A LAST WORD 



PAGE 

295 


. 306 



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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


The dying women opened her eyes 

“ Now, then, my lads, you will never get such a chance 


PAGE 

9 


again 


He found himself face to face with two soldiers of the 
Royal Auvergne .... . . ^ . 

It was George Washington, the generalissimo of the 

United States’ armies 

“ Friend, or enemy, come out of your hiding-place ! ” 

“ Take charge of this boy, and keep him safe ! ” 

“ Are you ready ?” 

Face to face with a savage .... 

The Englishmen were tryang to bayonet him 

Red Fox advanced 

The prey of a group of fanatic friends 
The bullet just grazed his forehead 


28 

55 

. 73 
. 92 
. 109 

• 134 

• 157 

. 169 
. 186 
. 208 


. 223 


Xll 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


The sky was lighted up with a aazzling glare 
Flicking the furniture with the whip in his hand 
Ralph Haudry beat the charge . 

La Ramde and Ralph held him tightly by the arms 


. 248 
. 265 
. 276 
» 298 




THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


CHAPTER I. 

LA CHARMOISE. 

was a cold evening in March, 1780. A solitary 
traveller was hurriedly striding along the road 
from Pontlevoy to Montrichard. The wind was 
blowing boisterously, sweeping in gusts across 





Our friend ran rather than walked, 




2 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


the fields, and driving before it the dense grey clouds, which 
in their headlong career seemed like flying flocks of sheep. 
Although the sun had not quite disappeared behind the 
horizon, darkness had already crept over the plain, and away in 
the distance the skirt of the wood of La Garette formed a black 
and far from inviting mass. 

With one hand holding on to his shabby three-cornered 
hat, with the other keeping down the skirts of his black serge 
cloak as they fluttered in the wind, our friend ran rather 
than walked along the road. Urged on in some mysterious 
manner he took in flying strides the puddles which the late 
shower had left, heedless of the splashes which in his clumsy 
leaps flew up over his black stockings and copper-buckled 
shoes. 

The work seemed hardly suitable for a man of his age; 
noisily was he breathing, and down his thin, gaunt face, hooked 
like a crow’s beak, the perspiration was flowing in streams. At 
last, with a sigh of relief, he saw on the side of the road the two 
white stone pillars, crowned with broken vases, which, without 
gate, postern, or defence of any sort, formed, as he knew, the 
entrance to the manorial domain of La Charmoise. And then 
he paused, and after carefully wiping his face and doing his 
best to set to rights the disordered state of his toilette, he 
entered between the two pillars, and with rapid, but dignified, 
step, approached the chateau, of which the sombre, confused 
block appeared at the end of the avenue. 

“ Brr I ” growled he as he walked. “ Wretched weather, and 
a wretched errand ! Mr. Ralph is quite capable of giving me 
an awkward reception. They tell me that though he is so young 


LA CHARMOISE 


3 


he has yet got the ready hand and iron grasp of his old grand- 
father. Jeanicot, my errand boy, could have done this business 
just as well — probably better,” added the traveller, glancing at 
his mud-spotted legs ; “ but Master Leloup gave me the order 
to take the notice myself, so that there could be no question 
about it, the act requiring that all such warrants, notices, or 
writs, must be presented by the usher in person and by nobody 
else. A fig for the act ! If we listen to it our honourable 
fraternity will soon be knocked off their legs.” 

As he finished, the old man emerged from the avenue on to 
the lawn in front of the chateau, and walked towards the princi- 
pal door, which was at the top of a short flight of steps. He 
noticed that, contrary to custom, it was unopened, and that the 
huge building was plunged in complete obscurity. 

Notwithstanding that night had now fallen, not a gleam of 
light shone through the closely-shut shutters all along the 
front. 

“ I am behind time,” muttered the officer of justice ; “ the 
legal hour has passed, and these people, fearing my visit, have 
shut the door in my face. It is against all the rules of hospi- 
tality ! I cannot remain outside here shivering in the cold, and 
holding this paper in my hand until the sun rises !” 

And then he ascended the steps, and lifting the iron knocker 
gave three gentle knocks. Loud was the echo through the 
silent house. However, nothing moved inside, and no servant 
appeared. After waiting a few minutes the usher again made 
the knocker resound through the mansion, and this time with a 
bolder hand than before. Two other attempts had no more 
success, and, finding this, the officer of justice descended the 


4 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


steps and walked out to the middle of the lawn, from whence 
he carefully examined the chateau. 

“ I see how it is ” he said at last, the birds have flown, and 
the nest is empty. However, I cannot wait any longer The 
night is getting as black as it can, and I may never get home to 
my fireside again, for the road is not over 
safe since the Touraine men have left 
off guarding it. I had better do my 
errand quickly.” 

He took from under his cloak a paper, 
unfolded it with great care, and, having 
again mounted the steps, he fixed the 
placard by means of four wafers against 
the panel of the door. That done he 
stepped back, and raised his hat as a 
salute, perhaps to the name of Louis XVI., 
which appeared in large letters at the 
top of the sheet, perhaps to the invisible 
inhabitants of the chateau of La Charmoise ; and then, appa- 
rently satisfied at his politeness, he quickly disappeared in the 
gloom, recommencing his rapid career across the deep ruts of 
the road to Pontlevoy. 

Meantime there lay in one of the principal rooms of the 
chateau Louise Haudry, Baroness of La Charmoise, sunk in a 
sleep which no insult could trouble — the sleep of death. At the 
foot of the bed Ralph Haudry, a lad of sixteen, was kneeling in 
prayer. In his clasped hands he held the icy hand of his 
mother, and the tears were still running down his handsome 
face. For an hour or more he had not moved, neither the fierce 



LA CHARMOISE, 


5 


gusts of the tempest without, nor the sound of the peremptory 
knockings of the usher within, had been able to wake him from 
his sorrowful reverie. 

A torch at the other end of the apartment threw its glare over 
the mournful scene, and the quivering flame playing over the 
lofty wainscotting seemed to struggle with the phantoms of the 
night. It seemed as though the walls themselves wept their 
dead mistress and the ruin of the ancient house, for from the 
farthest angle of the room there came mysterious, half-stifled 
sobs. It was, however, merely old Bridget, the last and only 
servant of La Charmoise, who, kneeling in the shadow, was 
endeavouring, in the presence of her young master, to repress 
the grief which struggled within her 

And in this manner slowly passes the night. The lad 
remains where he is, likewise immovable as death. The torch 
glimmers through the gloom, and at last goes out, and then 
through the shutters comes a tiny thread of light heralding 
the approach of dawn. 

And now Ralph rises, and gently and lovingly he crosses his 
mother’s hands. Reverently he kisses her forehead, and then, 
erect and calm, he walks to the window and throws it wide open. 

The storm has gone, the sun, peeping over the horizon in a 
robe of purple, clothes the plain, all dotted with its trees and 
farms, and framed by the circling forest. Ralph casts a lin- 
gering look on the well-known landscape of which each hill and 
valley recalled some happy day, gone by alas ! for ever. Those 
fields, those woods, those farms were the domains of his ances- 
tors, handed down for generations from father to son. 

Two hundred years before, the first Haudry, a soldier of for- 


6 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


tune who had warred much for good King Henry IV., had 
established himself on the charming wooded plateau which 
commands the valley of the Cher, on the confines of Touraine 
and Bldsois. Marrying a Mademoiselle de Vineuil, he built, on 
the edge of La Garette, a large dwelling, more of a counfl-y 
squire’s house than a chateau, and lived there with his family. 
Of them the eldest, Pierre, was created a baron by Louis XII L, 
and added to his patronymic the title De La Charmoise. 
Numerous were the legends which, for more than a century, 
were told of this Pierre Haudry. A fearless horseman, he 
passed his life in the chase, and, thanks to his Herculean 
strength, had gained for himself in this corner of Touraine the 
reputation of being the defender of the feeble and the oppressed. 
Folks related how, happening one day to be in the forest of 
Montrichard, he had come upon three ruffians who were robbing 
a needy merchant, and how, although without weapons, he had 
run up to the scoundrels, settled one of 
them with a blow from his fist, and seizing 
the other two each by his neck, had 
knocked their heads together so violently 
that he had beaten them to a jelly. And 
how, at another time, wishing to reprimand 
a youngster whom he caught stealing his 
nuts, he had taken him playfully by the 
ear, but unfortunately with such strength, 
that he tore it away ; and how he was very 
sorry at what he had done, and did not 
rest until he had sewn it on again, for 
the terrible baron was not only the judge, 



LA CHARMOISE. 


7 


he was also the physician and surgeon of all the peasants round 

sS. 

about, and understood how to set a limb or extract a tooth as 
well as how to Cut short with a single word a dispute between 
his neighbours. 

And so since then from Pontlevoy to Montrichard, from 
Bouvid to Chaumont, the name of Haudry had become the 
synonym for honour, worth, and strength. For a long time the 
successors of Pierre had in no way fallen off from the renown 
of their ancestor, each improving his property, and adding 
some wood or farm to the paternal domain, so that to the 
qualities just enumerated, another, none the less prized, ought 
to be added — that of wealth. 

In his earlier days the last Haudry, the father of Ralph, 
Baron John as the peasants called him, had faithfully followed 
the example of his ancestors. Rich, happy, and loved by every 
body, he passed his days in peace with his wife and son. But 
business called him to Paris He went away for a month, and 
— never returned. 

The poor country gentleman, dazzled by the splendours of the 
capital, forgot those whom he had left so contented and con- 
fiding behind him, and launched out into frivolous and dissolute 
living. To prolong his stay he invented new business ; but 
harassed by his creditors, he soon found it necessary to sell some 
of his property. To the gentle admonitions of his wife he replied 
by the announcement of his early return. But the whirlpool 
held its prey, and with startling rapidity the wretched man 
gambled away all his fortune. 

His wife would have come to rejoin him in Paris, to save him 
at any price ; but so much excitement had ruined her health, 


8 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


already frail and delicate, and, as she was setting out, a serious 
illness struck the poor woman down and confined her to her 
bed. 

And so she stayed alone with no other protector than her 
youthful son, and old Bridget her nurse, who would never leave 
her now that her servants had fled the impending ruin. In vain 
farms, woods, fields, had been sold. The poor lady saw herself 
menaced each day with expulsion from the roof which sheltered 
her, the greedy creditors already stretched their hands over the 
chateau of La Charmoise. 

In the midst of all her griefs she had, as she lay dying there, 
but one wish, that of seeing once again the husband so loved 
and so guilty. She would have forgiven him his faults, and 
made him promise to return to his honest, peaceful life, and 
educate their son as a good and loyal gentleman. 

One day a messenger arrived at La Charmoise, bearing a long- 
expected letter from Paris. With a trembling hand the poor 
woman opened it, and, in spite of her enfeebled sight, she re 
it herself. Alas ! all hope was lost ! 

Overwhelmed with debt, at his wit’s end for money, the Baron 
of La Charmoise had found himself arrested and lodged in 
the Bastile at the instigation of his creditors. In his prison 
he had at last recognized all the horror of his mistake, and 
before he died he wrote to his wife a letter of confession 
and repentance. A few lines added at the foot of the letter by 
the Governor of the Bastile stated that he had put his fatal 
resolve into execution, and had hanged himself by means of his 
cravat to the bars of the window of his cell. 

As she read the last lines, the paper dropped from the hands 



The dying woman opened her eyes. 


Page 9 









LA CHARMOISE, 


9 


of the baroness, and she fell back on the bed. Her son thought 
she was dead ; his kisses and his tears remained unanswered. 
However, as night came on, the dying woman opened her eyes, 
nd meeting tne look of her child fixed on hers, she contem- 
plated him for a moment with infinite tenderness, and then she 
breathed to him in a whisper these last words, — 

“ Good-bye, Ralph. Forgive him, for he did not know what 
he did. As for you, be a man ; and never forget that honour is 
the poor man’s wealth.” 

And then her eyes closed, and her child bent down his face, 
and waiting for another look, another smile, felt the hand of his 
dying mother grow cold in his own. 

And now, standing by the window, Ralph saw pass before 
him these saddening scenes and thrilling memories, and the 
tears welling up into his eyes hid from him the smiling corner 
of Touraine where he had hitherto been so happy, and which, a 
friendless, helpless, penniless orphan, he had now to leave. 






CHAPTER II. 

MASTER LELOUP. 

the thought that he would soon, and perhaps for 
ever, have to leave La Charmoise, Ralph felt his 
courage for a moment fail him. Where was he to 
go ? What was to become of him ? 

Leaning on the window-sill he remained, looking at the 






“ Such an opportunity may not occur again !” 


MASTER LELOUP. 


II 


white strip of road which wound across the level up to a thick 
curtain of poplars, beyond which could be seen the ungainly 
turrets of the Abbey of Pontlevoy. This road, so often traversed 
with blithesome heart and nimble foot while he was a pupil at 
the old royal college, was now to be for him the stern and 
cheerless path leading to exile, misery, and the gloomy future 
But of a sudden the words of his mother recurred to his mind, 
and as if the dead could hear him, he exclaimed, “ Yes, mother, 
I will be a man ! ” And then he rose comforted by the feeling 
of confidence his mother had had in him. He was coming away 
from the window, when in the direction of Pontlevoy he noticed 
unusual agitation. 

The road, generally so deserted, was black with people ; and 
it seemed as if, attracted by some extraordinary event, the 
whole population of the town were hurrying along the narrow 
footway. Ralph’s astonishment increased when he beheld the 
crowd stop before the entrance to the domain of La Charmoise, 
and then after a moment’s hesitation swarm into the avenue 
leading to the chateau. . 

Surprised at this strange invasion, Ralph was on the point of 
running down to the intruders to ask them the reason of their 
unjustifiable conduct ; but a vague misgiving kept him back, 
and involuntarily he closed one of the sashes of the window 
and stepped behind the light muslin curtain which hung across 
the panes. Without being noticed himself he w^s thus enabled 
to watch every movement of the scene below. 

Already the noisy, tumultuous crowd had reached the lawn. 
In front strode a short, stout man clothed in black, whose 
ruddy face was half hidden by a pair of huge barnacles, behind 


12 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


which were disposed the symmetrical corkscrew ringlets of a 
bob-tail wig. Ralph at once recognized in him Jacques Leloup, 
the notary of the town, the most imposing and most important 
personage in the parish of Pontlevoy. 

Arrived in the middle of the courtyard, the good man stopped 
and turning towards the usher, who followed at his heels, said 
to him in a voice whose shrill intonation contrasted strangely 
with his corpulent person, — 

And now. Master Griffard, you tell me that although you 
came here during the hours required by law, the inhabitants of 
this chateau obstinately refused to receive from your hands the 
copy of the judgment that we sent you to notify to them.” 

“ Things happened as I reported to you,” replied the officer 
of justice. " The door of La Charmoise remained shut, in spite 
of my repeated knocks, and I had to be contented with fixing 
on the entrance of the said house the copy of the judgment 
that I had to notify ; and yonder you can behold the truth of 
my assertion. Besides, things are in the same state to-day as 
they were yesterday ; you see that the door still continues 
closed, and no one comes to receive us ; it is evident, if I 
may venture to say so, that the house is empty.” 

“ The fact remains to be proved,” replied the notary. “ Will 
you please knock at that door. Master Griffard ? If no one 
answers, the locksmith I have brought with me will soon procure 
us the access which the law authorizes us to demand.” 

By this time Ralph’s patience had become exhausted. 
Leaving the window, he was about to rush down to the men who 
had the impudence to force their way into the chateau, when 
old Bridget stopped him. 


MASTER LELOVP, 


*3 


** What do you think of doing, sir ? she said. ‘‘ Don’t you 
see that these people have the right on their side as well as the 
might ? Did not the baroness tell you that all that is in this 
house has been seized by the scoundrels who robbed and mur- 
dered your father ? All that surrounds us is theirs, and if you 
resist they will have you arrested by the police.” 

“ What do I care for the police, and the ushers, and all the 
rest of the crew?” retorted the lad in a rage. “Shall I allow 
them to violate the house in which my dead mother is lying ? 
Let go, Bridget ! ” 

But the old woman clung to him. 

“ And who will watch by your mother,” she appealed to him, 

if they take you away ? ” 

“ That is true ; you are right,” said the poor boy, and bowing 
his head he returned to the window. 

At this moment the usher reappeared, and ran towards the 
notary, who, suspecting some dark design on the part of the 
chateau’s inhabitants, had beaten a retreat with his following to 
the edge of the lawn. 

I told you the truth ! ” shouted Griffard, in a triumphant 
voice. ; “ the house is empty, and the baroness has had 
the civil ty to leave the door unlatched when she went 
away ! ’’ 

“ So much the better,’’ replied Master Leloup with great 
dignity. “ Let us delay no longer, but proceed to the 
sale.” 

In a few minutes his acolytes had brought out from the house 
a table and some chairs ; and the notary took up his position 
in the very centre of the lawn, while his attendants, proceeding 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


U 

to the legal pillage, heaped up around him the pieces of furniture 
which they brought out one at a time from the ground floor. 

All being ready. Master Leloup spread the legal documents 
on the table, pressed his big barnacles down on his broad nose 
and began to read in shrill falsetto, in the midst of profound 
silence around him, the copy of the judgment. 

‘‘ In the Name of the King, our Master, Louis the Sixteenth. 
Know all men present and to come, that on Wednesday, the 
fourteenth day of February, one thousand seven hundred and 
eighty, in the forenoon, in the court of our Royal Master at 
Montrichard, and before Monseigneur the Marquis of Sourdie, 
counsellor of the king.” Here followed a long enumeration 
of judgments, seizures, &c., which handed over to the creditors 
of the Baron de La Charmoise all his property movable and 
immovable, according to the order of the court, to be sold this 
very day by public auction. 

With his face hidden in his hands, Ralph listened to this 
dismal reading, of which every word shot a pang through his 
heart. 

And so this was possible ; the law permitted strangers to 
come and take from him the last souvenir which the old home 
of his fathers contained. Moreover, it was said and written 
that he and his should leave the place which bore their name, 
to be soon occupied by some indifferent stranger. And then he 
blessed the cruel death which in taking from him his mother, 
had at least spared him the grief of seeing her hunted by the 
men of the law, and reduced to die in some house of charity. 
And all this because of — 

But as he was about to pronounce his father’s name, he 


MASTER LELOVP, 


15 


stopped. Although he was young, it seemed to him that he 
ought to forgive everything, the ruin, the misery, even the 
death of his mother ; but could he forget that the name so 
respected up to now, which had been transmitted to him by his 
ancestors, was henceforth soiled and dishonoured ? Well, the 
title of which as a child he had been so innocently proud he 
would efface from his memory ; what was a Baron de La 
Charmoise without La Charmoise. He would become Haudry, 
like his ancestor the soldier, and perhaps by his courage he 
might give to the name a lustre which would be worth much 
more than a vain and useless title. 

Below, the reading of the long official document ended, the 
notary had proceeded with the sale, and this was now going on 
with its usual shouting and tumult and bustle. 

Above the deafening chorus was heard the sing-song voice 
of Master Leloup. 

‘‘ Six livres ! six livres, ten sols ! Now, sirs, that is really 
nothing at all ! Such an opportunity may not occur again ! 
Seven livres ! going, seven livres ! Nothing beyond seven 
livres? Once! Twice! Thrice! It is yours, M. Picket ! ” 

And the sharp rap of the ivory hammer was heard on the 
table as the lot was knocked down. And this little hammer rap 
by rap demolished the long toil of the many generations who 
had made of La Charmoise one of the most charming residences 
in the land. 

Ralph, without moving, followed the work of ruin. He heard 
the swift enumeration, of which each word awoke a tender and 
a sorrowful remembrance. How often had he admired the 
piece of furniture which the sing-song voice described as a small 


i6 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


secretaire with copper and tortoise-shell ornaments, and which 
his grandfather had given his mother as a birthday present ! 
And this chest ‘‘ in heart of oak carved and chased with 
ornamental ironwork” which dated from the first Baron de 
La Charmoise ! 

After the sitting-room furniture, they sold the arms and 
gallery trophies, and then they attacked the kitchen battery, over 
which poor Bridget had formerly been so proud to reign. 

It was a total wreck of the whole of the past, a general 
breaking up, in the midst of which Ralph’s brain turned dizzy, 
and he seemed to feel himself seized and dragged off as if he 
himself were to be broken up and sold piece by piece to this 
pack of hungry bidders. 

And truly had it not come to his turn ? for the room door 
began to open, and in the doorway appeared the lean figure of 
Griffard. 

Any one but Ralph could not have helped laughing at 
the sight of the stupefaction displayed on the face of the 
usher. 

Persuaded that the hosts of La Charmoise had fled, the officer 
of justice had set quietly to work, proceeding item by item 
through the inventory of the furniture as the men removed it, 
and in this way he had reached the room of the Baroness, when 
opening the door, he was struck motionless, petrified on the 
threshold, at the scene which met his eyes. 

Surprise, respect, alarm, for a while paralyzed his tongue, 
and then ceremoniously removing his hat, he stammered 
out, — 

“ I hope you will excuse me, Mr. Ralph ; I should certainly 


MASTER LELOUF, 


17 


have knocked at the door before I opened it had I supposed 
that—” 

But the lad had risen, and standing with crossed arms before 
the usher, asked him roughly, — 

** What do you want ? ” 

“You are doubtless ignorant sir, that — ” said Master 
Griffard. 

“ I am ignorant of nothing,’* interrupted Ralph, “and I ask 
you what you were going to do here ? ” 

“ Believe me, dear sir,” continued the usher in a wheedling 
tone, “ I never felt so keenly as I do now that the duties of my 
office impose on me such painful obligations. You know what 
respect and esteem I always had for your father, and had he 
been present I would have expressed to him the profound sorrow 
which I feel at the unexpected death of the Baroness — ” 

“My father is also dead,” again interrupted Ralph, “and I 
alone am here for you to speak to.” 

“ In that case,’’ continued Griffard, “ I beg you will allow me 
to proceed with the inventory of the furniture contained in this 
room, so that we can add it to that now on sale.” 

“ What ! ” exclaimed the lad, “ does not the sight of that 
sainted woman, dead of grief, stop you ? ” 

“ The duties of my office — ” 

But in uttering these words the usher had stepped back, so 
full of menace was Ralph’s look. 

At this moment a heavy step was heard on the staircase, and 
immediately there appeared on the scene Master Leloup, who, 
becoming impatient at Gritfard’s delay, had come to see what 
was the matter. 


i8 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“ Well, Master Griffard ! he exclaimed, as he saw the usher 
stopped by the young baron, “what are you up to? It seems 
to me that you are gossiping, instead of working.” And then, 
addressing Ralph, “ Come, come, young man, let us finish our 
task, the day is getting on, and I do not want to be late for 
dinner.” 

“ Master Leloup,” answered Ralph tremblingly, my mother 
is there stretched dead on her bed, and I ask you not to trouble 
her sleep. I give you everything that is in the chateau, and I 
promise to' touch nothing which is in this room, but please do 
not enter here.” 

“ I cannot, in spite of my wish, comply with your request,” 
replied the notary ; “ the sale must close to-day. Come, Master 
Griffard, cease this futile discussion, and get on.” 

And suiting the action to the word, the notary pushed the 
usher so forcibly that the latter suddenly found himself in the 
room. 

But he was not there very long, for Ralph received him 
on one of his clenched fists with such vigour that he sent him 
flying-back on Master Leloup, and the usher, notwithstanding 
his leanness, upset his stout companion, and both of them 
rolled on to the floor. With a single bound Griffard was up 
and tumbling down the staircase from top to bottom, while the 
poor notary, believing his last hour had come, and unable with- 
out help to scramble to his feet, began to cry, “ Mercy !” and 
held his hands up to his enemy. His wig was otf, and his 
bare poll was as red as his face, and flushed with fright and 
anger. 

This time Ralph could not restrain his laughter ; he stretched 


MASTER LELOUP. 


19 


out liis hand to the good man, and helping him to rise, 
said, — 

“ I will have mercy, but do not come back ! ” 

And leaving the notary to rush off, he walked back into the 
room, locked the door, and returned to pray by his mother’s 
bedside. 



CHAPTER III 


THE ROYAL AUVERGNE. 



|WO days later a humble cortege left the chateau of 
La Charmoise, and bore the baroness to her 
last home. The coffin, covered by a simple black 
cloth, with neither crest nor coronet, was car- 
ried by four peasants. Behind them walked Ralph, bare-headed, 
and with serious mien, followed by a small group of the old 
tenants who had remained faithful in adversity to the memory 



Beginning his journey behind the coffin of his mother. 


j ■ w 


THE ROYAL AUVERGNE, 


21 


of their good mistress. A fine, cold rain, which had been fall- 
ing since the morning, shrouded plain and forest in a thick, 
grey mist, and added still more to the mournful appearance of 
the sad procession. 

Before leaving the chateau, Ralph had received a visit from 
the new proprietor, an honest burgess of Pontlevoy, who had 
good-naturedly invited him to stay at La Charmoise as long as 
he wished, it being his intention to transform the old seignorial 
domain into a farm. But the poor lad, although touched by 
the generous offer, had declined it. The old home could now 
have only sorrowful recollections for him, and he wished to get 
away from it as soon as he could. 

The evening before. Master Leloup had handed over to him 
the sum of fifty-five livres, the last tatter of his patrimony. 

Having then changed his clothes for garb more modest 
and but slightly different from that of the peasants in the 
neighbourhood, Ralph had put together a few things in a hand- 
kerchief, and thus equipped had started on his way, beginning 
his journey behind the coffin of his mother. 

When the cortege reacheef the end of the avenue, the lad 
^ had turned round and respectfully saluted the venerated roof 
which he never expected to see again, and then, without a tear, 
he resumed his place upright and unmoved beneath the crush- 
ing weight of his many sorrows. 

It was indeed a proud heart, and one well prepared for the 
strife of life which beat in the bosom of this gentle, timid- 
looking boy of sixteen ; under his delicate appearance he con- 
cealed a vigour and a strength well worthy the ancient renown 
of the old Haudrys. 


22 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


In the centre of the graveyard at Pontlevoy, in the place of 
honour, there rose the tomb of the Barons of La Charmoise, an 
elegant structure of granite due to one of the best architects 
of Touraine. This mausoleum, for a long time the pride of the 
family, was now to be the last resting-place of their respected 
name. 

When the coffin had been carried down into the vault, and 
when the heavy door had shut on it, Ralph warmly pressed the 
hands of each of those who had come with him, and after 
wishing him better fortune in the future they departed. But 
the old servant remained alone with her young master. 

“ My good Bridget,” he said to her, “ before I leave you, 
perhaps for ever, let me give you this money. It is little enough, 
but it will take little for you to live here, and it will keep you 
some time from want.” 

And he held out to her a silken purse, through whose meshes 
there glittered a few louis-d’ors. But the old woman gently 
pushed the purse back. 

“ Keep the money,” she said, “ it will be of more use to you 
than to me. Before you go, tell me, at least, whither you think 
of going, so that I may follow you in my prayers.” 

“ Where God may lead me,” answered the lad. 

“And why do you not go to your Uncle John, the lord of 
Vineuil.? He has always liked you as his sister’s son, and 
assuredly had not the good man been now at Levroux, in 
Berry, kept to his bed by the gout, he would have been with 
us to-day.” 

“ I do not doubt it, Bridget ; but my uncle has in our 
trouble done more for us than he ought. You know as well as 


THE ROYAL AUVERGNE. 


23 


I do that he is not over rich, and is heavily blessed with six 
daughters, two of whom are grown up. I would not like to 
add to his cares that of having to support me while I am doing 
nothing. Besides, I promised my mother that I would work 
for my livelihood.” 

“ Work ! You, the Baron of La Charmoise ! ” exclaimed the 
good woman, clasping her hands in astonishment. 

“ And why not ? ” replied the lad, in unquavering voice. ‘‘ I 
am not aware that work has ever dishonoured an honest man, 
but if through some empty prejudice my work might cast a 
stain on my title. I’ll abandon the title, and I shall be no hap- 
pier and no unhappier. For the rest, be content ; I have faith 
in myself, and I hope that however humble may be my position, 
my ancestors may never have to blush for my deeds. Come ! 
Good-bye ! Take the purse, and give me a kiss !” 

“ Once more, I do not want the money,” said the old woman. 

“ Then I, your master, the Baron of La Charmoise, hereby 
order you to take it,” said Ralph, in a tone of pretended 
hauteur. 

“ Well,” replied Bridget, at last accepting the purse, “ I see 
that you are a man and must be obeyed. May God bless and 
watch over you ! 

The poor woman burst into tears, while the young man 
clasped her affectionately in his arms. 

“ Above all,” she sobbed, “never let your grief abate your 
courage.” 

“ Never fear, Bridget ; it is not tears which honour most the 
memory of those we love best.” 

And disengaging himself from her embrace, Ralph seized his 


24 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


stick and his bundle ; and then having thrown a last kiss 
towards the tomb of his mother, he hurried out of the cemetery. 

A few minutes afterwards, having passed the last of the 
houses in the town, he found himself at the cross-roads of 
Pierre-de-Minuit, so called from a Druidical dolmen which 
then lifted its rocking table at the spot, but which the peasants 
have since removed, although they keep to the name. Four 
roads coming from different points of the horizon here cross. 
Ralph rested for a moment undecided which to take. The 
emotions of the last few days had hardly left him time to form 
any plan, and he would have been considerably embarrassed 
had any one asked him to which part of France he was going. 
However, as he would not at any price go back past La Char- 
moise, he took, after alittle thought, the road leading to the Cher. 

Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof,’” he murmured. 
“ It will be time to-morrow to think of the future.” 

The rain had ceased, and under the magic influence of the 
sun’s rays, the landscape, hitherto sombre and dull, appeared 
in a thousand beauties. The oaks, still garnished with their 
withered leaves, stretched their yellow-tinted boughs above the 
confusion of shrubs and underwood, and everywhere from the 
humid earth a thousand wild flowers lazily lifted their heads to 
greet the early caresses of the spring. 

Ralph, swinging along across the wood of La Garette, felt his 
heart swell with the joyous cries of the birds, who already, for- 
getful of the tempest, shook their wings and chanted forth their 
joyous hymn. Beneath that warming light he also felt his cou- 
rage strengthen and his hopes revive. Who has not at his age 
Having traversed the forest at a rapid pace, he baited on its 


THE ROYAL AUVERGNE. 


25 


edge to contemplate once more the lovely landscape which 
unrolled itself at his feet. 

The plateau sloped down abruptly in huge rounded ridges 
towards the Cher, of which the silver meanderings glittered in 
the distance across a shining valley of deep emerald green. 
Beyond rose the smoothened terraces of the Berry plateau, 
whose fertile plains, dotted with their large isolated farms, could 
be seen on the distant horizon. Away towards the west, across 
the misty atmosphere, there rose the heavy mass of the donjon 
of Montri chard, watching from its lofty cliff the eastern gateway 
of Touraine. 

Seated on the trunk of a tree, forgotten thereby the foresters, 
Ralph remained in reverie before the entrancing picture, when 
suddenly a horse’s gallop caused him to start. Turning his 
head, he saw coming out of the forest a horseman wrapped in 
a large blue cloak, which fell over the neck of the horse. By the 
gold-laced three-cornered hat and sword hanging by his side, 
the lad recognized an officer of the king’s army. 

The latter at sight of Ralph abruptly reined in his horse. 

“ Can you tell me, boy, which of these roads leads to Mont- 
richard ? ” 

Evidently the officer thought he was addressing some young 
peasant, but without showing any irritation Ralph rose, and 
saluting politely, said, — 

“ All these roads will take you to Montrichard, sir. The first 
to your right is the shortest, and you can take it if you are in a 
hurry, but as it runs alongside the forest the rain will in places 
have turned it into a quagmire, which your horse will not get 
through without some difficulty. 


26 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“ The one in front of you is a good bridle road ; but if you 
will deign to take my advice, you will choose that to the left, 
which although its hills are steep, and it will cause you to go 
round a little, is the best of the three ; and further, it will take 
you through the parish of Bourre, which is the loveliest spot in 
our lovely country.” 

Astonished perhaps at the reply, which denoted an apprecia- 
'tion of the beauties of nature, rather uncommon for a peasant 
lad, the officer looked at him with attention for an instant or 
two, and then contented himself with the remark, — 

“ So be it ! my friend. I am much obliged to you for your 
advice, and will take the road you recommend.” 

And then putting spurs to his horse, he started at full speed 
down the steep slope of the valley of Vaublin. 

Ralph slowly followed him. Nothing hurried him, and he 


wished to enjoy at his ease his last walk 
in this well-loved place. 



At first, on quitting the plateau, the 
Vaublin is but a sharp fold between two 
rounded hills clothed with vines, but 
farther on it enlarges, its base becomes 
filled with verdure, winding sometimes 
between copses of oak, sometimes be- 
tween plantations of hazel and chestnut- 
trees, until it opens on the very banks of 
the Cher. Here the landscape suddenly 
changes its character. The Cher, narrowed 
by its own alluvium, which fills the valley. 


Strikes off towards the Touraine plateau, and in the course of ages 


THE ROYAL AUVERGNE. 


27 


has cut back into it and formed a series of cliffs such as are met 
with on an ocean beach. These towering walls of stone, as white 
and compact as chalk, have been from remote antiquity scarred 
with quarries running deep into the bowels of the plateau. 
There, taking advantage of the impermeable character of the 
rock, the peasants have cut out deep chambers and healthy and 
convenient habitations, the terraces which lead to which and 
the doors which open on to them adorning the side of the cliff, 
while the chimneys run up through the enormous overlying 
mass. In this way is formed the whole village of Bourrd, a true 
city of the troglodytes, where even down to our own time, the 
chamber of rock has been preferred to the ordinary house built 
in the open air. 

Ralph stopped on the banks of the Cher, near to the chateau 
of Vineuil, whose pointed roofs stood out from the white cliff 
crowned hereabouts by a scanty wood of^ oaks. For a 
moment he thought of asking for hospitality at the house of 
his uncle, but, as it happened, he was not at home. Fearing to 
meet the hackneyed condolences of the servants, the lad preferred 
simply to eat a piece of bread he had brought with him from La 
Charmoise, and which he steeped in the delicious water of the 
river. 

Then following the bank, he slowly strolled on towards 
Montrichard, not caring to arrive there during the day, although 
he was little known in the town, having passed all his youth at 
La Charmoise or the abbey of Pontlevoy. 

However, the sun was still above the horizon when our young 
wayfarer reached the ancient city. To his great astonishment 
as he entered the gate he found that the meadow along the 


28 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


faubourg was gay with tents, among which numerous sol- 
diers in white and blue uniforms were noisily passing to 
and fro. 

Ralph had never had an opportunity of seeing so many 
soldiers all together before, and so urged by curiosity he directed 
his steps towards the camp. The caba- 
rets on the faubourgs which faced the 
meadow were full of a noisy crowd of 
soldiers and villagers. 

At the entrance to the camp, a group 
of idlers surrounded a tall lanky fellow, 
who, mounted on a tub, with his three- 
cornered hat over his ear and his laced 
uniform shining out bright in the sun, 
was in the midst of an inspiriting 
harangue. 

Ralph elbowed his way into the midst 
of his auditors. 

“Now then, my lads !” shouted the orator, “you will never 
get such a chance again ! You know that the Royal Auvergne 
is the first regiment in France. It is the only one in which the 
soldier gets his soup three times a day, roast meat on holidays, 
and wine at discretion ; you hear, over there, wine at discretion, 
always providing of course that he does not drink enough to 
prevent him from walking in a straight line, for on that point 
the colonel is inflexible, and drunkards are condemned to drink 
nothing else but water for eight days. Without offence to 
others, I do not think there is any colonel to compare with the 
Baron de TEstrade.” 






1 





“ Now, then, my lads, you will never get such a chance again !” 

Page 28. 




THE ROYAL AUVERGNE. 


29 


And to accompany his words the soldier held out his arm 
towards one of his subordinates, who passed him a glass of wine 
filled to the brim. Having swallowed it at a single gulp and 
wiped his moustache with the back of his hand, the orator 
continued, — 

‘‘ There you see — wine at discretion. You have already heard 
that each recruit enlisted will get, cash down, two handsome 
new crowns of six livres, not out of his pay. And in conclusion, 
to settle those who have got any pluck, I can tell you, with the 
colonel’s permission, that the regiment is at this very moment 
on the road to glory, having received orders from the king to go 
and take possession of some country of which I don’t happen to 
know the name, but where there is such a heap of booty to be 
got, that those who come back will be rich men for the rest of 
their lives. And now those of you fellows who aspire to the 
honour of marching beneath the colours of the Royal Auvergne, 
step out. We only want ten men — understand, ten men ; we 
have not got room for all of you.” 

Not a man stirred in the crowd ; the recruiter smiled 
ironically. 

“ Above all things, don’t hustle each other, we don’t want a 
disturbance near the camp ; the colonel does not like that. 
Come forward one at a time.” 

A tall sturdy fellow, blushing furiously, stepped, after a pause, 
from the ranks of the spectators, and advanced towards the 
sergeant, who, reckoning him up with a look, said, — 

“ What is your name ? ” 

“Victor Paumier.” 

“ Well, Paumier, you look like our style of man ; hold out 


30 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


your hand and in the king’s name receive these two crowns of six 
livres, which the Baron del’Estrade so generously gives to you.” 

The countryman took the two pieces, and then a corporal 
advanced towards him, touched him lightly on the shoulder and 
took him off to a neighbouring cabaret, where the recruit would 
sign with a cross the act of his enrolment. 

Ralph had followed this scene with interest, and while the 
sergeant rattled on he asked himself if this were not for him an 
unhoped-for opportunity. He was of course not tempted by 
the advantages dwelt upon in the clap-trap of the recruiter ; he 
knew very well that a soldier’s life was not a particularly 
brilliant one ; — often badly fed through the avarice of the 
colonel, the poor private was brutally treated by the subaltern 
officers and liable to corporal punishment in case of serious 
offences, punishment against which Ralph’s whole proud soul 
revolted. But for an orphan, alone in the world without 
friends or protectors, the army was a family in which he 
would be less likely to feel isolated. Then Ralph knew no 
trade, and despite his courage, the prejudices of. his caste, 
of which he thought so little, still inspired him with less 
repugnance for the military career than for the hard life of 
manual labour. 

So that when the sergeant having cleared off Paumier, 
addressed the crowd with his joking, “Who comes next?” 
Ralph had made up his mind. Pushing aside his neighbours, 
he stepped out from the group, and stood in front of the barrel 
on which the recruiter was enthroned. 

The sergeant bent down his head, and after a rapid glance 
contented himself with, — 


THE ROYAL AUVERGNE. 


31 


" What have you come here for, my boy ? ” 

“ I wish to be a soldier,” proudly answered the lad. 

“ Oh ! You wish to be a soldier do you ?” said the recruiter 
with a grin. “Then, my little one, you must call again another 
day. The Royal Auvergne is not a nursery, and we do not take 
children in arms ! ” 

The rude pleasantry was greeted by the crowd with a huge 
shout of laughter. Ralph, reddening with shame, felt himself 
put out of countenance. He threw a look of anger at the 
sergeant, and then clearing his way through the ring of 
spectators, hurried at a rapid rate towards the town. 


0 






CHAPTER IV. 

SERGEANT LA RAMEE. 

T was night when Ralph entered the inn known as 
the “ Lion d’Or.’’ Its large iron signboard swung 
above one of the dullest by- streets of Montrichard. 
He had designedly chosen this modest lodging lest 
he should unexpectedly run against some old acquaintance of 



They chatted about the approaching campaign. 




SERGEANT LA RAMEE. 


33 


the family. He was pleased to find on entering the gloomy 
common room of the inn that he was alone, and, seated at a 
table in the darkest corner, he rapidly despatched the frugal 
repast which the landlord had placed before him. As he was 
thus occupied, the door opened noisily, and four soldiers, 
wearing the laced uniform of the Royal Auvergne, entered the 
room. Guided by the landlord, who, hat in hand, preceded 
them respectfully, they took their places round a table, 
above which swung a smoking lamp. 

Host and servant vied with each other in getting things 
ready, and the dinner was soon served and vigorously attacked 
by the four stout warriors. But the best appetite in the 
world could not prevent them from talking, and this was the 
reason why Ralph, who had already prepared to go out, remained 
unnoticed in the corner, without knowing why the conversation of 
the soldiers interested him. They chatted about the approaching 
campaign, of which neither of them seemed to know the object. 

“ All I know is,” said one, “ that we are going to Brest, where 
we shall rejoin our old comrades of the Saintonge and Bourbon- 
nais regiments, and others besides, to form an army under 
command of the valiant marshal. Count Rochambeau. What 
are they going to do with an army at Brest if they are not going 
to ship it off somewhere } ” 

“ You are right. La Ram^e,” replied another, “ and if I believe 
the rumours which are about, we are to form part of an expedi- 
tion, which his Majesty the King is going to send beyond the 
seas to America. It appears that the English have quarrelled 
with the colonists in that country, and wish to reduce them to 
slavery, for they tell me the colonists have been fighting for 


34 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


their liberty for the last three years These American folks 
are whites and Christians, and the King of France will not 
have them treated like niggers, and so he is going to send us 
out there to bring the English to reason.” 

“ But,” asked the third, “ they say that the American country 
is full of savages, who wear nothing but a feather on their 
heads, and run about naked in a forest full of snakes, lions, and 
crocodiles.” 

“ Eh ! What does it matter ? ” replied the one whom his 
comrade had addressed as La Ramde, “ so long as we go to 
fight, above all, against the English, I want nothing more. For 
the last three years we have not drawn a sword, and if that is to 
continue, I had rather to my old tailor’s trade again, and bid 
good-bye to the Gatinais.” ^ 

Ralph, who listened attentively to all this, could have explained 
to the soldiers many points which seemed obscure to them. 
Not to speak of their ridiculous notions as to the savages and 
wild beasts of America, he could have told them, v/hat he knew 
very well himself, that the English colonists of North America 
had been fighting for the last four years against the mother- 
country, not to defend their personal liberty, but to win the 
noblest of all liberties, the independence of the nation founded 
and fed by their labour. 

It was precisely because he knew the noble reason of the 

1 The Gatinais regiment had ’ eceived for its gallant conduct in the 
Seven Years’ War the honorary title of “The Royal Auvergne;” the 
title, however, was not officially used at this time, although it was 
always claimed with pride by the soldiers of the regiment, which, as 
we shall see, obtained the definite right to it during the American 
campaign. 


SERGEANT LA RAM EE. 


35 


strife that Ralph regretted being unable to take part in it now 
that France was ostensibly moving to the help of the oppressed. 
What career for a nobler object could offer itself, with the 
tempting attraction of adventures in distant lands ? Having 
heard enough, the lad rose, and timidly crossing the room, 
walked towards the door. Just as he reached it, he heard one 
of the soldiers exclaim, — 

“ Hallo ! There is the very boy I have just been looking 
for!” 

Ralph turned round, and Sergeant La Ramde, who had risen 
from the table, said to him, — 

“ Come here, my lad, don't be afraid of us, we are not all like 
that lanky recruiter who received you so badly this afternoon.” 

The lad, slightly embarrassed, advanced towards the soldiers, 
who invited him to sit down with them, and have a glass of 
wine. 

“And so, my lad,” asked the sergeant who had first spoken 
to him, “ it seems that the uniform of the Royal Auvergne 
tempts you, and that you would like to become a soldier.” 

“ Certainly, sir I ” answered Ralph, “ but you know that that 
is not possible.” 

“Yes, I can see as well as that booby La Fortune, that you 
are not tall enough for a grenadier, but you are not too short to 
make a capital drummer. Will that suit you .? ” 

“ I do not know if — ” 

“ Look here, little one, you must decide if you want to come 
with us, for we start to-morrow morning.” 

“ But I don’t know how to play the drum,” replied Ralph. 

“ Oh, that doesn’t matter in the least, you don’t look like a 


36 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


fool, and I’ll teach you in a month how to beat the ass’s-skin as 
well as anybody.” 

“ You can trust Sergeant La Ram^e, my lad,” interrupted 
another soldier ; “ there are very few regiments that have a 
better drum-major than he is.” 

“ In that case, sergeant/’ answered Ralph, if you think I am 
good enough, I will do all I can to satisfy you.” 

“All right, agreed, my boy,” said the sergeant, holding out 
his hand. “ I like your face, and that is why I have been run- 
ning after you since you disappeared so mysteriously. There 
is only one thing, you had better come with me to the colonel, 
for the drummers are shqw men, and he likes to choose them 
himself. So comrades, adieu for the present, I will be off with 
the youngster.” 

The sergeant rose, and left the room, followed by Ralph. 

Traversing the town, the two new companions made their 
way to the Croix Blanche, the best hotel in the place, where the 
officers had taken up their quarters. Having finished dinner, 
they were engaged in the billiard-room, where the drum-major 
sent in word to the colonel by one of the servants that he would 
like to speak to him. 

A formidable “ Come in ! ” was the response of the colonel, 
and La Ramde hastened to obey the injunction. Ralph discreetly 
stepped behind him, and at the first glance recognized that^the 
officer whom he had met in the morning and the colonel of the 
regiment were one and the same person. 

The Baron de I’Estrade, with a billiard cue in his hand 
received the sergeant rather roughly, but the latter, erect, with 

his hand at his hat, let the storm pass over him without flinching. 

% 


SERGEANT LA RAMEE. 


37 


“ What is the matter with you, La Ramde, to come and bother 
me at this hour ? 

“ I beg your pardon, colonel, but the regiment moves to-mor- 
row morning.” 

“ I know that as well as you, don’t I ? ” interrupted the 
officer. 

“And,” continued La Ram^e imperturbably, “my colonel 
knows that he is short of a drummer, and as I think I have 
found one for him, I thought it best before engaging him, to 
bring him to the colonel.’’ 

And stepping aside, he let Ralph come into view. 

“ Hallo ! ” exclaimed the Baron, turning towards the 
officers who were with him, “it is the very lad I was just 
talking about.” Then addressing Ralph, he continued, “ I am 
much obliged to you, my friend, for the advice you gave me 
this morning. I was well satisfied with my road, and I see that 
you are a boy of taste and intelligence. ^Do you want to become 
a drummer ? ” 

“ I am not tall enough to be a soldier,” answered Ralph, 

“ Then it is only as a makeshift you accept the position?” 

“ I am an orphan, colonel, and I have to earn my living.” 

“Ah ! and you know how to read ?” 

“ I know how to read and write.” 

The baron looked keenly at Ralph for a few seconds, and then 
continued, — 

“ If you do not care to be a drummer, I can offer you a posi- 
tion which may suit you better. You have doubtless been told 
that we are going to be sent to America. I can only take with 
me a valet, but as the opportunity presents itself, I will willingly 


38 


THE DRUMMER-BOY 


add to him a young servant to take charge of my arms and camp 
baggage. Will that suit you ? ” 

Ralph blushed, and answered in an embarrassed tone, 
Thank you, but I would rather be a drummer.” 

“ Oh, indeed,” said the colonel good-humouredly, “ but I have 
forgotten to ask you who you are ? ” 

“lam called Ralph Haudry, and I was sixteen a few months 
ago. My father and mother were farmers near Pontlevoy.” 

“ Well, La Ramee,’’ said the colonel to the sergeant, “ I 
authorize you to inscribe the name of Ralph Haudry on the list 
of the drummers of the regiment.” 

And with a kindly nod of adieu to the youngster, M. de 
I’Estrade returned to his billiards. 

As he went along with his new recruit. La Ramde said to 
him, — 

“ Although the colonel seems so terrible, yet he loves us all 
like his children, and there is not one of us, who would not cut 
himself in four at a single sign from him.” 




CHAPTER V. 

THE drummer’s LESSONS. 

ILE the Royal Auvergne is oh the road from 
Montrichard to Brest, we may briefly glance at 
the events which had led King Louis XVI. to 
take part with the Americans against England. 
Without entering into the original causes of the War of 
American Independence, it may be remembered that, driven 
to extremities by a number of vexatious interferences, the 




Drum-Major La Ramee at the full height of his tall stature. 



i? 


40 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


American colonies, in 1775, openly declared war against Great 
Britain and repulsed a detachment of British troops who were 
intended to occupy Boston. On July 4th, 1776, the Congress of 
Delegates from the thirteen revolted provinces assembled at 
Philadelphia, and solemnly proclaimed the independence of 
the United States of America, the declaration containing the 
following words : — 

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are 
created equal ; that they are endowed by their Creator with 
certain inalienable rights ; that among these are life, liberty, 
and the pursuit of happiness ; that, to secure these rights, 
governments are instituted among men, deriving their just 
powers from the consent of the governed ; that whenever any 
form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the 
right of the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute a new 
government, laying its foundations on such principles, and 
organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most 
likely to effect their safety and happiness. Prudence, indeed, 
will dictate that governments long established should not be 
changed for light and transient causes ; and, accordingly, all 
experience hath shown that mankind are more disposed to 
suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by 
abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But 
when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invari- 
ably the same object, evinces a design to reduce them under 
absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off 
such government, and to provide new guards for their future 
security ; and for the support of this declaration, with a firm 
reliance on the protection of Divine Providence we mutually 


THE DRUMMER'S LESSONS, 


41 


pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred 
honour.” 

From the commencement of the struggle George Wash- 
ington had been nominated “ General-in-Chief of all the forces 
of the United Colonies, of all those now raised or to be raised 
and of all others which might voluntarily offer their services, or 
join the said army for the purpose of defending American 
liberty and repulsing attempts against it/* 

For four years Washington had resisted the English attacks 
with varying success and defeat, at times even denuded of 
almost everything and on the point of being driven into the 
deserts of the west, but always full of heroic confidence in the 
destinies of his country. 

Europe followed with great interest the vicissitudes of this 
unequal strife, sustained by a handful of colonists against the 
formidable power of England, then the first in Europe. It 
seemed evident that left to themselves the Americans would 
end by being annihilated, and once more falling under the 
yoke, grown still more galling, of their detested masters. 

Then it was that Louis XVI., urged by the adroit solicitations 
of Franklin, whom the revolted colonists had sent as ambas- 
sador to Paris, and above all persuaded by the young Marquis 
de la Fayette, who had constituted himself the advocate of the 
United States, then it was that, after recognizing the Indepen- 
dence of the American colonies, the king decided to send to 
their assistance an army under the command of Marshal 
Rochambeau. 

While a fleet (v forty-eight sail under the orders of the 
Chevalier de Ternay collected at Brest, a corps of 10,000 men 


42 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


were on the march to that sea-port. This corps comprised 
besides the Gatinais or Royal Auvergne regiment, the Bour- 
bonnais, Neustrie, Soissonnais and Saintonge battalions, the 
legion of Lauzun, the Royal Deux Fonts, with artillery, 
engineers, and a field and siege train. 

The Royal Auvergne was the first to arrive at the rendez- 
vous. The fair Breton city was in a state of great excitement 
at these warlike preparations, and the streets were filled with a 
curious crowd when on the 2nd of April the first regiment 
appeared at the commencement of the Faubourg Saint 
Jean. 

Drum-major La Ramce, at the full height of his tall stature, 
marched at the head, and the sight of the marvellous twirls of 
his gold-headed cane was not one of the least causes of 
astonishment and admiration to the good people of Brest. 

As for the women who thronged the windows and balconies 
their acclamations were loud and shrill for the smart little 
drummers in their natty white and blue jackets, who filled the 
town with their thundering rolls and saucily covered step 
behind the gallant sergeant. 

“What a shame !” exclaimed one woman, carried away by 
her enthusiasm, “ to send away those pretty little curly cherubs 
for the savages to dine upon ! ” 

The cherubs for the most part were sad young scamps and 
had much less fear of the savages than of Colin Tampon, for so 
they had nicknamed their drum-major. 

Amongst them at the end of the rear rank the young Baron 
of La Charmoise with his shoulders back and his head well up, 
sternly tapped his drum as proud and as happy as if he had 


THE DRUMMERS S LESSONS. 


43 


reconquered his lost domain and all his lands now far away at 
Pontlevoy. 

At length, arrived before the arsenal, La Ram^e, at a sign 
from the colonel, brandished his cane, and the drummers 
beating the salute, the regiment entered through the big 
archway of the barracks. 

A month had scarcely elapsed since Ralph had for the first 
time donned the uniform of the Royal Auvergne and already 
he had won the friendship of all his comrades, who, struck with 
the refinement of his manners and the polish of his language, 
had nicknamed him “ the little baron,” quite unconscious of the 
fact that they had given him his true title. 

However, even drummers are not perfect, and among the 
disciples of La Ramee there were a few who, less good- 
naturedly, had tried to play off on Ralph a few of those 
practical jokes which were then in vogue amongst the military. 

At the beginning, the lad took no notice 
of these things and was the first to laugh 
at the vulgar pleasantries to which he 
was subjected, but his forbearance was 
soon- taken for poltroonery. One day, 
one of his comrades, a big sturdy fellow, 
the wag of the band, served him on the 
march a very dirty trick, and sent him 
and his drum rolling into a filthy ditch 
which ran alongside the road. Without 
saying a word, Ralph picked himself up, 
shook off the mud which covered him, 
and took his place in the ranks, received 



44 


THE DR UMMER-BO K 


by the whispered witticisms of his neighbours. But when 
they reached their camping-ground and he had carefully put 
down his drum and drumsticks, he quietly walked up to his 
adversary, who was showing off in the middle of a group of 
admirers, and gave him two sounding smacks in the face. 
There naturally ensued thereupon a desperate battle, terminat^ed 
on the part of the wag by a singularly rapid retreat, of which 
the drummer-boys of the Royal Auvergne long retained the 
remembrance. 

Having shown his mettle, Ralph had become generally 
respected, feared by the big lads and worshipped by the little 
ones. 

This pugilistic business had been witnessed by La Ramde, 
who, seeing the turn matters were taking, very prudently slipped 
off, so as not to have to punish his protdgd. 

La Ramee had taken a great liking to his new recruit, and, 
Ralph knowing this, and happy to have some one to love, warmly 
returned the feeling. 

The good drum-major had a very high opinion of his art, 
and in his way of thinking, it was not only on account of mili- 
tary requirements, but also as a recognition of his merits that 
the drummer marched at the head of the army ; so he tried his 
best to make his young friend a drummer far surpassing all 
other drummers, and well worthy of such a master. 

It was worth being present, when during a halt he would take 
his .pupil beyond the limits of the camp, to see with what care 
and appreciative minuteness he would initiate him into the 
mysteries of his craft. 

“ Come, my boy,” he would say, “ stretch out your left leg a 


THE DRUMMER'S LESSONS. 


45 


little more. A good drummer ought never to have any worry 
with his drum. It ought to be fixed at your knee so as not to 
interfere with your movements, not too tight to hinder you from 
running, but not too loose, for it will shake about, and your sticks 
will have to run about after it. Ah ! the sticks, all depends on 
them, you see ; the hand which holds them ought at the same 
time to be light and firm to give that 
crisp accented touch which gives the 
music its character. 

“ See, let us begin ; the body upright, 
the chest thrown out, the elbows tucked 
in ; that is it, and now try the roll.” 

And Ralph, striking the well stretched 
skin with his sticks, would attempt the 
rumbling melody which is the touchstone 
of the accomplished drummer. 

“ That is not bad,” La Ramee would 
say in a kindly tone, ‘‘ but still it is not 
done like that. Why T can tell a good roll 
from a bad one a couple of miles off. To get a good roll you 
need not thump away like a drummer at a fair, who always looks 
as though he wants to stave in his head. The wood should 
scarcely graze the skin, and little by little the vibrations get 
stronger, the motion increases, the sound rises, and grows, to 
fall back again softly and gently, so that at the last stroke of the 
stick the melody seems to die away in a distant echo.” 

The ‘^rappel,” the reveille,” the “assembly,” in a word, each 
of the calls of the regiment furnished the good sergeant with 
an opportunity for long technical explanations, accompanied 



46 


THE DRUMMER’BOY, 


by poetical dissertations on the warlike influence of the sym- 
phonies of the rolling drum. It was principally at night, when 
peaceably smoking his pipe before his tent, that his enthusiasm 
would almost touch upon the lyrical. 

“ Figure to yourself, my boy,” he would say, “ what would 
become of an army without a drummer? Every man would 
stick in his bed until the sergeant came and drew him out by 
his feet ; then they would have to run in all directions to collect 
the guard or the fatigue party, the soup would get cold in the 
coppers before anybody knew it was ready, and at night the 
innkeepers would have to turn out their customers themselves. 
Perhaps you will reply that the cavalry has now got no drum- 
mers, but, my dear friend, you can scarcely tell me that head- 
splitting ear-twisting trumpets are music for men, trumpets were 
invented for the horses, just as horns were for dogs. 

“ And then the drummer through his bravery is the example 
and model for all the regiment. Generally he is only a 
youngster, without a musket or a weapon to defend himself 
with, and yet he marches on, mid the rain of the bullets, 
drowning the roar of the cannon with the sound of his drum, 
and leading to the assault all the brave fellows who would be 
as’much ashamed of abandoning him as of losing their colours. 
A messenger is sent to the enemy, it is a drummer who accom- 
panies him, and if the outpost does not see the white flag, or 
will not see it, their bullets shower on the gallant boy as well 
as on the officer. Nothing here is done without us from meals 
to bed-time, and, when a comrade goes to join the old soldiers 
of the Royal Auvergne above, it is we, whp, with our drums 
draped in crape, take him on his last journey. You see, my 


THE DRUMMERS LESSONS. 


47 


son, you wished to be a soldier; fate has made you something 
much better, it has made you a drummer ! ” 

This innocent enthusiasm made Ralph smile, and he very 
much hoped that fate would one day take him much higher 
than the cane of the drum-major, which La Ramee dreamt of 
transmitting to him, but he took very good care not to let his 
aspirations become known to the good sergeant. Assuredly he 
was fortunate in being a drummer, and in having acquired at 
the same time a devoted friend and so many good comrades. 
The Royal Auvergne was henceforward his family, and he 
already loved the name as if it had been that of his ancestors. 

One thing grieved him a little. Since his interview at the 
Croix Blanche, the Baron de I’Estrade had never addressed a 
word to him, and did not appear to recognize him when the 
occasions of the service brought him to the front. Doubtless, 
the colonel had been annoyed that his proposition had been 
rejected, and had rather a spite against the young drummer, 
— so thought Ralph. 

But he was mistaken, Baron de I’Estrade had no spite at all 
against him. On the contrary, struck with the circumstances 
under which he had met the lad, he had continued to interest 
himself in him, and had never lost sight of him. One day 
he had even said to M. de Sireuil, who was one of the 
captains, — 

“ I do not know what it is that interests me in that little 
drummer we picked up in Touraine, but I am sure there is 
some mystery about him. Have you ever noticed how correct 
and proudly respectful his attitude is under all circumstances ? 
He is always as tidy as a girl, and although there is no affecta- 


48 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


tion in his language, it is always refined and well chosen. I 
shall be very much astonished if that boy is the son of some 
rough farmer, and certainly the future will reveal some secret 
about him.” 

The regiments arrived one after another at Brest, and as soon 
as the whole army was complete. Marshal Rochambeau gave 
orders for the embarkation. The Royal Auvergne went on 
board the Conquerant, while the other regiments filled thirty- 
nine other transports. Seven sail of the line, two frigates, and 
two cutters formed the escort of the convoy. Chevalier de Ter- 
nay had hoisted his flag as admiral on the Due de Bourgogne. 
At last on April i6th all was finished, the fleet weighed anchor 
and left the harbour of Brest, saluted at their departure by 
thousands of spectators, waving handkerchiefs, and winging 
good wishes to the valiant hearts who were going across the sea 
to fight for liberty. 



CHAPTER VI. 


, THE CAMP AT NEWPORT. 


HE French fleet took two months and a half to cross 
the Atlantic, so contrary were the winds, and so 
much had the ships to go out of their way to avoid 
the English cruisers, who would have done their 
utmost to have thrown the convoy into confusion. 




Marshal Rochambeau's Proclamation. 


•w- 



THE DR UMMER-BO F. 


50 


Although the Conquh'ant was a fine big vessel, yet the 
gallant warriors of the Royal Auvergne, cooped up in her 
batteries, thought the passage rather a long one. 

Sergeant La Fortune fretted and fumed more than all of them 
each time that bad weather compelled him to go below, for on 
account of his gigantic stature he was compelled to march about 
between decks half double, and one day he was heard to declare 
that had he known he would have to shut himself up in a drawer 
he would have handed in his laced coat, and remained where 
the houses are high enough to prevent your bumping your head 
against the ceiling. 

“Well, my friend,” philosophically replied La Ramde, “what 
will you do when your feet touch the ceiling ? ” 

“What? My feet— ?” 

“ Don’t you know,” continued the drum-major, “ that America 
is at the antipodes, on the other side of the globe, of the world, 
and that consequently in order to hold themselves upright 
there people are obliged to walk about head downwards.” 

“ You don’t say so ! ” muttered the petrified recruiter. 

“ Certainly,” added Ralph, “ and that is why in those coun- 
tries the savages do not wear shoes, but cover their heads 
with leather so as not to wear out their crowns ! ” 

A roar of laughter from all sides saluted this observation, the 
bewildered face of the lanky La Fortune grew dark, and throw- 
ing an evil look at Ralph, he left the battery, growling that the 
youngster would pay for that some day. 

A few alarms occurred to break the monotony of the long 
journey. Frequently suspicious sails would be reported on the 
horizon, and soon, at the admiral’s order, the ships would pre- 


THE CAMP AT NEWPORT 


SI 

pare for action. Then Ralph would take his drum and briskly 
beat to quarters, for he was nothing loth to smell powder. 
But the enemy, not being in force, would clear off after 
reconnoitring the convoy. In vain the captains asked to be 
allowed to pursue, for Admiral De Ternay, thinking only of the 
safety of the transports confided to his charge, obstinately 
refused permission. 

One day, however, they sighted a light English squadron of 
five vessels under command of Captain Cornwallis, which came 
down on the French fleet so daringly that one of the frigates 
seemed to offer a very fair chance of capture. But even then 
M. De Ternay, to the disgust of the officers, stopped the vessels 
which had started towards her, and when the admiral asked 
De la Clochetterie, the captain of the Jason^ what in his 
opinion was the destination of this squadron, he obtained the 
reply,— 

“ Too late, sir. I could have told you last evening if you had 
allowed me to speak to the Englishman.” 

On the 2 1 St of June, however, they captured a merchantman, 
and on the 4th of J uly they came up with a man-of-war of the 
enem/s, which, greatly damaged and crippled with shot, was 
forced to strike her flag. 

Two days after, on sighting the American coast, the fleet made 
sail for the south. Suddenly, in the middle of the night two of 
the enemy’s frigates dashed into the convoy, firing their broad- 
sides and then disappearing in the darkness to return again and 
again to the attack. The admiral, still wisely sacrificing his 
self-respect for the convoy’s safety, confined himself to giving 
out the order of battle. When the day broke the two frigates 


52 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


were seen two leagues off to leeward. They were chased for 
tw’O hours, but were not come up with. 

At last, on the 12th of July, the fleet made the cape on the 
coast of Rhode Island, and the roofs and steeples of the small 
town of Newport came into view. 

The soldiers, drawn up on deck, saluted the land so ardently 
desired with long acclamations, and soon there came back 
the echoing hurrahs of the crowd which welcomed their 
liberators. 

A few hours afterwards the French troops hastily quitted 
their narrow prisons, landed on the American coast, and 
entered the little town amid general enthusiasm. 

The streets were strewed with flowers, and at every window 
there floated joyously the white flag with its fleur-de-lis blend- 
ing its folds with the stars and stripes of the United Colonies. 
The young Marquis de^la Fayette, sent by Washington, came 
to receive his compatriots on their arrival in the land of his 
adoption. 

Passing through the town, the French army proceeded to en- 
camp on the north of Rhode Island. Nothing had been 
prepared for their reception ; but the soldiers gaily set to work^ 
and in a few days wooden barracks sprang up, and entrench- 
ments were dug and armed with cannon. 

Scarcely had the camp been formed before Marshal Rocham- 
beau caused the following proclamation to be issued and read 
to the soldiers : — 

Every kind of marauding is forbidden under the penalties 
set out in the regulations. It is forbidden under the same 
penalties to take a piece of wood, a truss of straw, or any sort of 


THE CAMP AT NEWPORT 


S3 


vegetables, unless by agreement or payment. Every offence of 
mutiny, disobedience, insubordination, obstinacy, brutal and 
noisy drunkenness — in a word, all such cases as are not 
sufficiently serious to demand a court-martial, but at the 
same time require prompt punishment, will be punished, accord- 
ing to the regulations, with strokes of the sabre, or by the 
provost corporals according to the magnitude of the offence. 
In order to make the soldier more sensible of the disgrace, he 
will not go on duty during the time of his detention.” 

“ And mind you remember this, my lads,” had said the Baron 
de I’Estrade, after reading the marshal’s order. “ The first of 
you who is found marauding will have to settle with me, and I 
promise him such a lesson as will serve for an example to those 
who think of imitating him.” 

And when the chiefs had gone, the men began to discuss the 
severity of the order. 

It would hardly be worth while to make war,” said the long 
La Fortune, “if we cannot pay ourselves from time to time by 
a present or two, in addition to the jingling crowns. I know 
the regulations, they read them out at every change of garrison ; 
but defaulters know what that is worth.” 

“ My friend,” sententiously observed La Ram^e, “ we are come 
here for the triumph of liberty. That ought to be enough for 
you, if not, your back, despite its lace, will make acquaintance 
with the sabre of the provost.” 

“ Enough of that,” replied the recruiting-sergeant. “ I don’t 
want a musician like you to teach me what are my rights and 
duties ” 

The country, already impoverished by the successive visits 


54 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


of the English and American troops, was only able to furnish 
very meagre supplies, so that by the end of the first month the 
French army was in difficulties as to its commissariat. The 
latter part of the month of September arrived, and with it came 
the rain and bad weather ; and there was still no mention of 
an advance. 

Washington, entrenched at West Point on the Hudson, 
hesitated to recommence operations before the arrival of rein- 
forcements. And so inaction, joined to severe discipline and 
increasing discomfort, began to tell on the French soldiers. 
Hot-headed men were already saying that to do that sort of 
thing they might just as well have remained in France. 

Ralph was not amongst the malcontents. Full of impatience, 
he also hoped soon to see the commencement of the fighting ; 
but accustomed to the calm life of the country, he was easily 
pleased with the varied natural beauties of the neighbour- 
hood. 

The days when he was not on duty vvere spent in wandering 
about in company with La Ramde among the deep roads of the 
district, bordered by their scented hedges. In the evening, in 
the drummer’s hut, by the light of a candle, he occupied himself 
in deciphering an English book which he had procured in 
Newport. These studies provoked a good deal of joking on 
the part of his comrades, but he persevered with ardour, and 
soon spoke sufficient English to make himself understood by the 
country people when he entered into conversation. 

One day, on returning from one of these walks, which had 
taken him to a distant farm, he had increased his pace so as to 
reach the camp before the prescribed hour, when at the turn 





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D I R?o h 


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He found himself face to face with two soldiers of the Royal Auvergne. 


Page 55 - 










THE CAMP AT NEWPORT. 


55 


of a deeply sunk footpath he all at once found himself face to 
face with two soldiers of the Royal Auvergne, who had come 
out of a neighbouring field. 

One of these soldiers was La Fortune, carrying by the neck a 
fat goose ; while his companion, notwithstanding his broad 
shoulders, bent beneath the weight of a fine sheep which had 
just had its throat cut. 

In seeing himself thus surprised in the very act of marauding, 
the recruiter uttered a terrible oath and stopped, evidently con- 
sidering what he had better do. Then, carried away by rage, 
he let the goose drop, and drew his sword and rushed on Ralph 
with,— 

“Ah ! that is how you spy upon me, you rascal, is it ? I will 
serve you out, once for all.” 

But, light as a bird, Ralph had scrambled up the bank and 
jumped over the hedge which capped it. Once there he turned 
round, and shouted down at La Fortune,— 

“ What a coward you are ; you take me for a child, and would 
attack me unarmed. I am not afraid of you. If you want 
to fight you have only got to ask the colonel’s permission. I 
am ready for you any time. But you are a thief, and I am not 
a spy, and I will leave to others the task of sending you^to 
the gibbet.” 

And he continued his road to the camp across the plain, 
leaving the two marauders very uncomfortable at the adventure. 

Up to this day the Marshal’s orders had been so scrupulously 
observed that the inhabitants had lost all distrust, and La 
Fayette had been able to write to Washington, — 

“ The discipline of the French is such that the fowls and pigs 


56 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


walk about among the tents, and no one interferes with them ; 
there is in the camp a field of maize, of which not a leaf has 
been touched.” 

And thus the arrival of the countrymen to complain of the 
larceny committed by La Fortune, occasioned considerable 
excitement in camp, an excitement which was increased w’hen 
it was known that the country folks could prove that the robbery 
was committed by soldiers of the Royal Auvergne. 

Accordingly, at the order of Baron de I’Estrange, the drummers 
beat the assembly, and the entire regiment was drawn up in 
line. 

The colonel invited the farmers to go down the line and 
point out the man they said they had seen. They passed La 
Fortune and his companion, who stood trembling with fear, but 
what was the general astonishment when, reaching the end 
of the line where the drummers were, both countrymen 
simultaneously picked out Ralph, exclaiming, — 

“ There is the thief ! ” 

The poor lad could hardly believe his ears, and his surprise 
was so great that the colonel had to shout twice in a severe 
tone, — 

“ Drummer Haudry, step out of the ranks ! ” 

Ralph, holding his drum with one hand, while he saluted with 
the other, advanced towards the colonel. 

“You are sure,” he said to the countrymen, “ that you recog- 
nize in this lad him who took your goose and your sheep?” 

“We did not see him take them,” prudently replied one of 
the farmers, “ but I can swear I saw this lad yesterday evening 
prowling about our iarm.” 


THE CAMP AT NEWPORT. 


57 


“ What have you to say ? ** said the colonel to Ralph. 

** I tell you, on my honour, colonel,” answered the lad, " that I 
had nothing whatever to do with the robbery committed against 
these good people. But what they say is quite true. I was 
yesterday evening, before the rappel, in the neighbourhood 
of their farm.” 

In that case,” replied M. de I’Estrade, “ as you were yourself 
on the spot at the very time the theft was committed, did you 
not meet with the culprit ? ” 

Ralph hesitated. 

“It is not my place to denounce one of my comrades, 
colonel.” 

“ That for me is a confession,” said the officer drily. “ Pro- 
vost, take over this man and give him twenty strokes with the 
flat of the sabre in front of the regiment, and then keep him in 
prison for a month.” 

The poor lad had become pale as death, and tears filled his 
eyes, but he made not a sound when the provost laid his hand 
roughly on his shoulder. 

“ Besides,” said hereupon one of the farmers, “ we have here 
got something which will rather upset that rascal’s self-posses- 
sion. Yesterday evening, when I went into the stable, I found 
I was short of a sheep. At first I thought it was in the field or 
had lost its way. But as I put down my lantern, I saw some- 
thing glitter among the litter, and I picked up this button, on 
which is written the name of the Royal Auvergne.’’ 

And taking the button from his pocket, he handed it to the 
colonel, who examined it rapidly, and exclaimed, — 

“ But this button could not belong to a drummer ; it is only 


58 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


sergeants who wear this sort of thing. Provost, assemble the 
sergeants ! ” 

The sergeants were consequently paraded before the colonel, 
and the provost, having examined their uniforms, soon dis- 
covered that the button belonged to La Fortune, who at the 
same moment hastened to say, — 

“ It was I, colonel, I am the guilty one, and I am a coward 
and a booby not to have said so at first. But my back was 
thinking of the sabre strokes, and the lace I bear, and have 
borne for twenty years. It is hard to lose it now. Before the 
dance begins, let me shake hands with Drummer Haudry, for I 
see he is really a good comrade and a brave little soldier.” 

“And what did you do with the goose and the sheep?’’ 
answered M. de I’Estrade. 

“Alas, colonel,” replied the sergeant, “ I ate them.’’ 

“ What, alone?” 

“ No, colonel, with some comrades. We have been fasting 
for such a long time.” 

The colonel bit his moustache and said nothing. Evidently,' 
in spite of his anger, he hesitated to sacrifice an old non-com- 
missioned officer for an offence which, in war-time, is looked 
upon as a peccadillo. 

“ I am sorry for you, La Fortune,” he said, after a pause. 
“ Because hitherto, for long years, you have faithfully served 
the king, under the colours of the Royal Auvergne, and you 
appear to repent of your crime. I will forego, therefore, the 
sabre strokes, and I will leave you your lace. But you must 
remain a month in prison, and you must pay these farmers for 
the goose and the sheep which you took from them.” 


THE CAMP AT NEWPORT. 


59 


“Thank you, colonel,’’ exclaimed La Fortune, and in his joy 
at getting off so easily, he embraced Ralph. 

“As for you. Drummer Haudry,” continued M. de I’Estrade, 
“return to the ranks/’ 

The matter over, as they returned to their quarters, the 
soldiers gave Ralph a regular ovation, congratulating him on 
his devotion towards a comrade. 

“ And again, you see,” said La Ramee, “ the youngster was 
capable of receiving the sabre-strokes without flinching, not 
only for a friend, but for that great lanky La Fortune, who had 
never done him anything but harm. If that is not heroism, I 
don’t know what is.” 




CHAPTER VII. 

THE colonel’s ORDERLY. 

FEW days afterwards, Ralph received orders to 
present himself before the colonel. 

“ My lad,’’ said the baron, “ I have had you 
come to me so that I can compliment you on 
your conduct. Not simply because you have acted as a really 
good fellow, and did what you could for that character La 




A big, heavy travelling berline. 


THE CO LON EES ORDERLY, 


6i 


Fortune, who is not a bad soldier after all ; for I am aware that 
in so doing you only behaved as became a man of honour. 
Nothing can be more detestable than tale-bearing under such 
circumstances. What I wish more to congratulate you on was 
the dignity which you showed under the cruel and unmerited 
reproof which was inflicted on you. Not being able to clear 
yourself honourably, you submitted without protest, and showed 
as much sense as spirit in understanding that the unjust 
punishment I was about to inflict on you was dictated by 
inexorable discipline, and not by any animosity on my 
part. Besides, you might perhaps think that I had felt some 
bitterness at the way in which you refused to enter my 
service.” 

Believe me, colonel — ” stammered Ralph, 

“ I respect your scruples,” continued M. de I’Estrade *‘and I 
quite understand, without any explanation, that a boy of spirit, 
like you, would prefer the livery of the king, or rather the livery 
of France, to that which I offered you. Nevertheless, a soldier 
can, without forfeiting his honour, serve his chief, even out of 
the ranks.” 

“ I shall be very glad,” answered the lad in a firm voice, “if 
I can be of any use to you, and I beg you will do as you please 
with me.” 

“ I do not doubt it,” continued the colonel. “ In fact, I 
thought so of you. I want to have near me, amongst my 
orderlies, a young fellow who is intelligent, plucky, and honest, 
and whom I could employ in delicate matters. You seem to 
have all the necessary qualifications. You speak English, I 
think?” 


62 


THE DRUMMER-BOV, 


“A little, colonel, just enough to understand and to be 
understood.” 

“Very good. Can you read it?** 

“ Pretty fluently.” 

“ You have made very rapid progress,” observed the baron ; 
“to learn English in so short a time denotes rare intelli- 
gence.” 

“ I do not quite deserve your compliment,” replied Ralph 
modestly. “ At the college of Pontlevoy I learnt the rudiments 
of the language.” 

“Ah!” said the officer, “you were at Pontlevoy? I con- 
gratulate you, it is a celebrated place.” 

Ralph perceived that he had said something imprudent, for 
the Abbey of Pontlevoy was only open at this period to pupils 
from noble families, and so he blushed and hastened to reply, — 

“ My relatives were farmers in the neighbourhood, and they 
obtained permission from the Abbd for me to attend the 
classes.” 

But the colonel did not seem to notice his hesitation, and 
contented himself with, — 

“You spent your time there to some profit it would seem. 
So much the better, and I will tell La Ramde to-day that I am 
going to put you on my staff.” 

“ Shall I cease to be a drummer?” asked Ralph quickly. 

“Will that grieve you ?” 

“ Well, colonel, if I am not tall enough for a grenadier, I will 
have to remain a drummer, unless I wish at the first battle to 
remain behind in the camp with the servants and the baggage.’^ 

“ No, my friend,” said the officer. “ You will stay among the 


THE COLONEUS ORDERLY. 


63 


drummers, and I hope that you will soon show, in beating the 
charge, that you have profited by the lessons of La Ramde. 
And besides, thinking about that, you seem to be the favourite 
of our brave sergeant. They say he loves you like a son.” 

“ That is true, colonel, and I also love him.” 

“ Yes,” said M. de I’Estrade. “ La Ramde is a brave and 
honest soldier, who would walk straight to his death the moment 
I ordered him. Well, as you are so much together, you may tell 
him that I have chosen him and you to accompany me on a 
walk I am going to take to-morrow. Let both of you be at 
headquarters to-morrow morning at seven o’clock precisely.” 

“ With our drums, colonel ? ” 

“ No, not this time,” said the officer, laughing. “ You can go 
now.” 

La Ramee awaited Ralph’s return with impatience. He was 
vaguely uneasy, fearing, in his anxiety for his protdgd, some 


fresh adventure, so that ^hen he saw 
him appear, he said to hirri, — 



“ Well, what did the colonel want with 
you?” 


“ Good news,” said the lad cheerfully, 
and without delay he gave the sergeant 
a detailed report of his interview with 
the colonel. When he reached the point 
at which M. de I’Estrade had made him 
his orderly. La Ramee interrupted him 
with, — 



“ Oh, that is the good news you 
have, is it ? You can keep it for me. 


64 


THE DRUMMER-BOW 


That is just my luck. I give myself the trouble of selecting 
a pupil, I teach him his trade, so that he can do a roll 
fairly well, when, hey presto, comes the colonel and makes a 
sign, and there is nothing more seen or heard of the drummer. 
I hardly like to say it, but you are really ungrateful.” 

“But, my dear La Ram ee,” answered the lad, laughing, “I 
tell you that I remain with you, and that I shall only leave my 
rank when the colonel wants me. Rest assured that at the 
first battle, I shall beat the drum by your side ; M. de TEstrade 
has promised me that I shall.” 

The vexation of the good sergeant turned to joy when he 
learnt the end of Ralph’s interview with the chief. 

“ Nevertheless,” he said, “ I am afraid that one day or other 
you will put aside your drum to take to the halberd. The 
colonel has taken a fancy to you, and will push you on. When 
a fellow knows how to read and write, and looks like a gentle- 
man, as you do, he can now-a-days, with these new fangled 
ideas, rise to be an officer.” 

The next morning, on the 17th of September, at the hour 
ordered by the baron, the two drummers arrived at headquarters. 

Bqfore the door of the rough shanty of planks, where the 
commander-in-chief of the French army was quartered, there 
stood a coatTh with four horses, a big heavy travelling berline, 
dating at least from the reign of Louis XV.; between enormous 
wheels, slung on broad leather straps there hung the huge 
yellow body, furnished before and behind with a double seat. 
A few of the Lauzun hussars, with their carbines hung at their 
saddles, waited near the carriage, to which they were to form 
the escort. 


THE CO LONE VS ORDERLY, 


65 


La Ramoe contemplated these preparations with great sur- 
prise, while Ralph could make nothing of them, when suddenly, 
at a sign from the officer commanding the platoon, the hussars 
drew their sabres, and came to attention ; Marshal Rocham- 
beau appeared at the door of the shanty, and walked towards 
the berline, followed by three officers, and the colonel of the 
Royal Auvergne. The latter, having noticed Ralph and hi» 
companion, beckoned them to approach, and presented them 
to the marshal, saying, — 

“ Here are the two men of my regiment whom I have chosen 
to accompany us. The younger speaks English, and may be 
useful to us in case of need, for he is the 
only man of our escort capable of con- 
versing with the country folk.” 

The marshal contented himself with 
an inclination of the head, and then 
stepped up into the vehicle, followed by 
the three officers and the baron, while at 
the latter’s order the two drummers 
climbed into the seat behind. 

The hussars took their places at the 
sides of the carriage, and the coach- 
man whipping his horses, the cortege 
rapidly left the camp in a cloud of dust. 
They soon reached the channel which separates the island 
from the mainland. The carriage went on to the bridge of 
boats, and' in a few minutes had reached the American shore 
and was passing through the rich fields of Connecticut. 

The drive was splendid. The air, freshened by the sea 



66 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


breeze, tempered the heat of the sun, which bathed the 
smiling outlines of the farms and fruit-gardens, and their 
curtains of planes and sycamores, in a flood of light. In the 
meadows the grazing cattle would slowly lift their heads to con- 
template sleepily and stupidly the cloud of glittering hussars, 
while on approaching the villages the children would run out 
and salute the carriage with joyful shouts. The country people 
working in the fields, harrowing the ground for the approaching 
sowings, barely turned round at the noise. It was such a pic- 
ture of peace and prosperity that Ralph, opening his eyes, asked 
himself if this could really be the America for which the French 
had come to give their blood and their lives, or whether it was 
not rather some neutral spot, sheltered from thejiorrors of war 
by some special convention? Nevertheless, this was Con- 
necticut, one of the first of the revolted states ; but amongst the 
rustics, only a small number had flocked to the banner of 
Washington, the others contenting themselves with making 
vows of liberty, fearing by their departure to leave their farms 
and fields to the English ; — selfishness which was perhaps 
excusable, considering the penury of the colonial treasury, 
but which could scarcely benefit their army. 

La Ramee was no less astonished than Ralph at this peace- 
ful spectacle. Silent at first, and cowed by the proximity of the 
illustrious marshal, he soon recovered his accustomed loquacity. 

“ At last,” he exclaimed, “ we see ourselves on the move, and 
away from that confounded Rhode Island, where we are com- 
pelled to march backwards and forwards from morning to night 
like a squirrel in his cage. I must say that this war is the 
queerest I ever saw or heard of. We cross the seas to deliver 


THE COLONEL'S ORDERLY. 


67 


the Americans, whom the English are on the road to rub out, 
and then as soon as we arrive they shut us up like prisoners in 
an island, and forbid us to pluck even a rose. At the end of 
two months we start off on a reconnaissance, in a carriage, with 
four generals, twenty hussars, and two drummers without a 
drum. It is an odd business ! 

“ Hush ! ” said Ralph, pointing with his finger to the berline 
below them, “ if the marshal were to hear you ! ” 

“The marshal ! ’^ imperturbably continued La Ramde, “the 
marshal, you may rest assured, is of the same opinion as I am; 
and I believe if he were master, we should soon come to busi- 
ness with the English. But it seems that Rochambeau is 
but second fiddle here. The king has forbidden him to do 
anything without orders from M. Oua-Oua — " 

Washington,” kindly added Ralph. 

“ That is it, their general-in-chief in short, for I shall never 
manage to pronounce his name. It seems to him that General 
Oua — and the rest you know — is in no hurry to beat to action.” 

“ Come, La Ramde,” said Ralph in a low tone. “ Don’t talk 
politics. Cannot you see that our chiefs know more of these 
things than you or I, and that what they do is certainly better 
than what we imagine ? ” 

“ Well, as far as that goes, yes,” said the sergeant ; “there is 
no one who will tell me to my face that Marshal Rochambeau 
is not a perfect -soldier, and that the Baron de I’Estrade is un- 
worthy to be his second. I promise you that the man who 
speaks ill of our chiefs would have a very bad time of it; but I 
would not remain like this for a couple of months without doing 
anything ! ” 



CHAPTER VIII. 


THE INTERVIEW AT HARTFORD. 



They then started to the scene of the accident. 


THE INTERVIEW A1 HARTFORD, 


69 


a chance of their meeting with the English cavalry under 
Clinton, who were scouring the country in these parts. 

At nightfall they stopped at Windham, to again partake of 
a meal, and to change the team, and then, notwithstanding 
the bad state of the roads and the darkness of the cloudy 
night, they went on, the marshal wishing to reach Hartford 
before morning. 

They, had scarcely covered more than half a mile, when, all 
of a sudden, in clearing one of the ruts, the heavy berline 
oscillated violently, and then swung on one side in such a 
manner that Ralph and La Ramde were thrown into the road, 
fortunately without damage. The driver pulled up the horses, 
and at the same moment the baron jumped out of the carriage 
with the inquiry, “What is the matter.? 

“Only, colonel,” replied La Ramde, who was piteously 
rubbing his knee, “only that this old waggon has broken a 
leg of its own, and tried to break one of mine.” 

“ One of the hind wheels has come off the axle,” added 
Ralph, who, armed with a lantern, was already seeking for the 
cause of the accident. “ And as the bolt is broken, I don’t see 
how we can get it back again.” 

The marshal had now got out. 

“ What an unfortunate thing ! ” he said. “ General Washing- 
ton is bound to arrive this evening at Hartford, and for him as 
for me moments are precious. What do you think, colonel, 
had we not better take the horses from the hussars, and so get 
on?” 

“We cannot in any way reach Hartford, marshal,” replied 
the baron, “ until too far in the night to put ourselves in com- 


70 


THE DRVMMER-BOY. 


munication with the cornmander-in-chief ; and, besides, we 
cannot do without the escort. The country is not safe. Allow 
me to send my men back to Windham, they are sure to find 
some smith who can put this right.” 

“ Do so,” said the marshal. “ It will come to the same 
thing, if we do have to pass an hour or two here.” 

The baron then asked the coachman of the berline if he 
knew of a smith at Windham, 

“ There is one,” said the driver, with a twang, “ but I don't 
think he will do anything for you at this time of night.” 

“We shall see about that,” said the baron. ” Haudry, get 
off with La Ramde, and bring us a smith if there is one ; if not, 
some other workman who can repair the carriage.” 

The Baron de I’Estrade had scarcely spoken before the 
two drummers were off at the double towards the town, whose 
lights they saw through the night. At the inn where they had 
dined they were shown the smith’s house, but, as the driver had 
warned them, the man had gone to bed, and the dark outside 
of his closely shut cottage was rather forbidding. 

La Ramde knocked loudly, but in spite of the vigour of his 
blows, which threatened to beat in the door, it was not until 
some time had elapsed that the window above opened, and 
there appeared thereat, wearing a cotton nightcap, the head of 
a man who thrust out a lantern and held it over the road, 
while in a surly tone he shouted, — 

“If you fellows are thieves, you might as well clear off, for 
there is nothing in my poor house worth stealing, except an 
old musket full of buckshot, which may give you something for 
your pains.” 


THE INTERVIEW AT HARTFORD. 


71 


We are not thieves, but honest travellers,” replied Ralph in 
English. 

“ What do you want, then, at this hour ? ” 

Your name is Smithson, and you are the smith here?” 

‘‘ Well ? ” 

“ Then,” continued the lad, ‘‘ I hope you will come at once 
and see to the carriage of Field-Marshal Rochambeau, which 
has broken down about a mile from here.” 

“ Hang both you and your marshal ! ” exclaimed the 
smith. “ I have got a fearful cold, and if you were to offer 
me a hundred guineas I would not leave my house at such an 
hour.” 

And thereupon he slammed to the window. 

“ What did the old boy say ? ” asked La Ramee, who had not 
understood a word of the conversation. 

He said he did not care to trouble himself,” replied 
Ralph. 

“ Ah ! well we must knock in the door, and bring him out 
dead or alive,’’ said the sergeant. And suiting the action to 
the word, he began to attack the door. 

No, stop,” said Ralph. “ I will have another try.” And 
then, with all the strength of his lungs, he roared out, “ Mis — 
tare Smithson ! Mis— tare Smithson ! ” 

The window soon opened, and the smith reappeared, with, — 

“ For goodness’ sake do stop that row, you will wake up the 
whole town. 1 have told you that I will not go where you want 
me to.” 

“ And I tell you that you will go where we want you to,” 
answered Ralph in the most amiable tones. “For Marshal 


72 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


Rochambeau, who commands the French army which has 
come to your country’s aid, is expected at Hartford to-morrow 
morning by General Washington. On that interview the safety 
of America will depend, and you must be a very poor patriot 
to allow it to be said that Mr. Smithson, of Windham, for 
fear of catching a cold, decided to endanger the deliverance of 
his country.’* 

The surly smith quickly shut the window, to the great stupe- 
faction of Ralph, who expected his discourse to have had quite 
another effect ; but a few minutes afterwards the door opened, 
and the workman appeared, wearing the same cotton cap. 

“ You see,’’ he said, “ that I give into your request, but I am 
sure I shall have an awful cold.” 

Without saying anything more, Ralph helped him to get 
together his tools, and they then started to the scene of the 
accident. 

The hussars had lighted a large fire, round which the generals 
awaited the return of the messengers. 

The damage was greater than was expected, and the patriotic 
but much snuffling smith passed more than half the night in 
putting thills to rights. 

The dawn was already tinting the hill-tops on the horizon, 
when the officers were enabled to continue their journey, and 
three hours later the coachman, pointing with his whip to a 
group of houses in the front with tiled roofs, exclaimed,— 

“There is Hartford.” 

On a farmhouse near the town there floated the stars and 
stripes of the United States. The carriage drove in the direc- 
tion of the standard, and pulled up before the gate. A few 



It was Geome Washington, the generalissimo of the United States armies. 

Page 73. 





THE INTERVIEW AT HARTFORD, 


73 


American militiamen stood to their arms, and received 
Marshal Rochambeau with military honours. As he set foot 
on the ground, a tall man, in an officer’s uniform, stepped out 
of the house. It was George Washington, the generalissimo of 
the United States armies. 

“ Count Rochambeau,” said he, “ I should have liked to have 
been the first to greet on American ground you whom the king, 
your master, has so generously sent in the cause of liberty. 
Though this pleasure has to my extreme regret been denied me, 
believe me that I am deeply grateful to the King of France 
for having placed at the head of the expeditionary army a 
soldier as renowned as you.” And he held out his large open 
hand, which the marshal cordially shook. 

“ In sending me here to serve under your orders,” answered 
Rochambeau, “ the king has conferred on me an honour which I 
look upon as the crowning-point in my career, and to my last 
breath I will do all that I can to fulfil the mission which his 
Majesty has entrusted me with.” 

Having thus exchanged compliments, the two generals 
returned into the house, followed by their respective staffs. 

It was at this celebrated interview that the bases of that 
decisive campaign which resulted in the triumph of American 
independence were agreed upon. Washington and Rocham- 
beau passed the day together. Towards the evening a despatch 
from the French camp came in to announce a fresh movement 
of the blockading English fleet under Admiral Rodney. The 
marshal resolved to return to Newport at once, so as to receive 
the enemy, who were threatening to land. 

The carriage was got ready to start. La Ramee and Ralph 


74 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


were again at their post, when the marshal came out accom- 
panied by Washington and the French and American officers. 

With all the enthusiasm of a noble mind, the lad gazed at 
the illustrious American. He said to himself that this man, 
worthy of being one of the great heroes of antiquity, had sacri- 
ficed honours, dignity, and fortune, for the sake of the welfare 
of his fellow-citizens. When the whole world considered it 
madness to enter into strife with England, the most formidable 
power in Europe, he had, without an after-thought, thrown in 
his lot with liberty, and to-day held in his hands the future 
and fate of a great nation. 

7'he marshal for the last time was shaking hands with 
Washington, when the latter remarked, — 

“ I forgot to tell you that this is General Arnold, one of my 
best lieutenants, who is in charge of the strong position at Wes 
Point. 1 trust to him to keep our lines of communication open 
while I am operating beyond the Hudson.” 

General Arnold bowed deeply. He was a fine, handsome 
young man, whom the American militiamen called the “ Hero 
of Behmus,” from one of the first successes they had had over 
the English. 

Ralph, who had been watching him for some time, had been 
struck by his haughty mien, contrasting so strongly with the 
noble, good-natured bearing of Washington. 

Hats were raised, the militiamen presented arms, and the 
carriage, surrounded by the Lauzun hussars left with its four 
horses at the gallop. 

“ Ah ! ” said La Ram^e, “ I fancy from what we have heard 
that things will become warm soon and that our English 


THE INTERVIEW AT HARTFORD. 


75 


friends will have to get their baggage ready. The general 
hasn’t a bad look about him, it is a pity they gave him such a 
villainous name.” 

It grew night, and Ralph thought, “ I suppose we shall arrive 
without accident. The orderly came from Newport, and 
brought a message that they expected an attack at any moment. 
It will not make much difference, but I should not like to lose 
the first battle.” 

They had been a few hours on the road, when some new 
creakings of ominous import made themselves heard underneath 
the coach body. Ralph was now on guard, and before the up- 
set came, had got tight hold of the seat and La Ramde, who 
would but for this have again been pitched out. 

This time it was not the large wheel on the right, but that 
on the left which had come off. Matters looked serious, for 
the travellers did not know their whereabouts. However, in 
searching round, they discovered the traces of their former 
bivouac, so that fate had again stopped them close to Windham, 
and the two drummers had again to double off to that town as 
they had done the night before. 

Ralph went straight to the cottage of the smith, and La 
Ram^e attacked the door as vigorously as on the preceding 
occasion. Soon the window opened and disclosed the lantern 
and the workman’s head covered with the inevitable cotton cap- 

“ Now then ! ” he shouted, “ are you going to make a practice 
of calling me up every night in the week? How am I to get 
rid of my cold ? Who is it ? ” 

It is I again, good Mr. Smithson,” said Ralph, in a most 
insinuating tone. 


76 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“ Who are you ?” 

“ Marshal Rochambeau’s orderly.” 

“ What ! ” exclaimed the smith astounded, “ have you come 
back to break your wheel again ? ” 

“ It is not the same wheel, dear Mr. Smithson, it is the lelt 
wheel which has stuck in the rut. I really think the coach was 
made by the English expressly to upset our plans.” 

“Well, what do you want me to do.?” said the smith 
philosophically. “ Marshal Rochambeau can pass the night at 
the ‘ Blue Boy,’ for General Washington is not waiting for him 
any longer, and there is no hurry ; to-morrow morning I’ll see 
about the berline, good night 1 ” 

“ Mister Smithson ! ” implored Ralph. 

“ What have you got to say now ? ” 

“ Mister Smithson, you are a good patriot, and I am going to 
trust you with a state secret. Admiral Rodney has arrived so 
as to treble the fleet which is acting against us, and it is urgent 
that we should get to Rhode Island to resist his attacks.” 

“ But,” asked the workman visibly interested, “ what can you 
do with your half-dozen vessels against the English.?” 

“ It will be the happiest day of our lives, if they try to force 
their way into Newport harbour,” replied Ralph with 
enthusiasm. 

“ Well ! ” said Mr. Smithson, “ you are plucky fellows, any- 
how ; you shall have your coach put right in an hour.” 

And he quickly came down, took his tools, and followed the 
drummers. 

As they wont out of the town, he slightly stooped towards 
Ralph and said to him, — 


THE INTERVIEW AT HARTFORD, 


77 


“ Without wishing to pry into your secrets, I should like to 
know what you thought of Washington, and what he thought of 
you.” 

“ I can tell you something better than that,” answered Ralph. 
“ It was agreed between Marshal Rochambeau and your great 
general that before a year from this not a single English 
soldier would be left in free America ! ” 

“ Hooroar ! ” exclaimed the smith. 

“Hush !” said Ralph, “you must keep it secret. Here we 
are.” 

As the smith had promised, an hour later the carriage again 
drove along the road to Newport, and the marshal succeeded in 
arriving before the English fleet. 






CHAPTER IX. 

THE MARSHAL’S MESSAGE. 

[IHE hopes awakened by the Hartford interview 
were not realized. A month had elapsed since, 
in the parlour of the Connecticut farm, Wash- 
ington and Rochambeau had drawn out their 
plans, and no movement of troops had taken place. The 




“ Is that the messenger you promised me?” 


French army remained shut up in Rhode Island, while 
Rodney’s fleet blockaded the coast. 


THE MAE SHAHS MESSAGE. 


79 


I he men, unable to account for this prolonged inaction, began 
to murmur, and with a certain amount of reason, as their situa- 
tion grew worse from day to day. The wasted country could 
with difficulty furnish the means of living for such a number of 
men, and scarcity reigned in the French camp ; and, beyond 
all, winter was approaching and the dearth was increasing. In 
order to render revictualling more difficult, the English had 
sent out foraging parties into the very heart of Connecticut, 
and carried off the cattle, and burnt down the isolated farms. 

Marshal Rochambeau chafed as much as his men at this 
prolonged inaction. But he could do nothing ; for Washington, 
concentrating his forces under great difficulties, was all the 
time waiting for some favourable circumstance to give the 
signal of advance, with a probable chance of success. 

In vain, the young Marquis La Fayette endeavoured to per- 
suade the French general to put himself on the march alone, 
assuring him that the sight of the uniforms would be quite 
sufficient to put the English to flight. 

Rochambeau felt that unconcerted action could but com- 
promise the final result ; and he replied to the fiery friend of 
the Americans in these sagacious words,— 

My dear marquis, allow an old father to talk to you as a 
son whom he loves and esteems. It is always well to believe 
the French invincible, but I will let you into a secret which a 
forty years’ experience has taught me. There are no troops 
more easy to beat once they have lost confidence in their 
leaders, and they very soon do that when they are led into dif- 
ficulties for the sake of some one person’s ambition. If I 
have hitherto been fortunate enough to retain their confidence. 


8o 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


I owe it to the most careful scrutiny of my motives ; and so 
out of the 15,000 men there or thereabouts, of different ranks 
who have been killed or wounded under my orders in different 
actions, I am unable to reproach myself with losing one for 
my own selfish purposes.” 

Towards the beginning of November, Rodney’s fleet disap- 
peared, and Rochambeau conceived the bold project of quitting 
Rhode Island, and threatening the garrison of New York ; while 
the American troops, descending the valley of the Hudson, 
occupied the attention of General Clinton. It was a bold stroke, 
which could only succeed on account of its unexpected 
character, and the rapidity with which it was carried out. The 
reports of the spies announced some movement of the English ; 
the moment was therefore favourable, and it was as well to 
profit by it. 

The marshal selected one of his best officers, and sent him 
to West Point to explain the plan of the campaign to Washing- 
ton, who was then at that town. A couple of days afterwards 
he learnt from the country people that the messenger had 
unluckily fallen into an ambuscade and been killed. He also 
received from them the news that a considerable English de- 
tachment was operating round Hartford, as though they were 
making for Massachusetts, communication between West 
Point and the coast being thus cut off. 

This unexpected intelligence confirmed the marshal in his 
resolve. What a triumph it would be if while the English were 
moving towards the north-east, he could deprive them of 
New York— that great commercial centre, the seat of their 
power ! It was necessary, therefore, to inform Washington 


THE MARSHAVS MESSAGE. 


8i 


without delay, but how? To send another officer was to send 
him to certain and useless death. On the other hand, to con- 
fide such an important message to a spy, was to entrust the 
fate of one of the armies to unknown hands ; for if the secret 
were betrayed, and if the movements failed to be simultaneous, 
the corps engaged single-handed would assuredly be annihi- 
lated. 

At a council of war the marshal explained to some of his 
officers his plans and his perplexities. He had scarcely 
finished speaking when Baron de I’Estrade arose, and said, — 

“ If you will give me permission, marshal, I will undertake 
to get your instructions to General Washington.” 

“ How ? ” asked Rochambeau. “ I hardly suppose you intend 
to risk yourself within the enemy’s lines ? ” 

“No, sir,” answered the officer. “That form of heroism 
is hardly in accordance with the commission I hold from his 
Majesty. My place is at the head of my men, and I can hardly 
quit it. But, unless I am very much mistaken, I can put rny 
finger on the confidential messenger you are in search of. 
Allow me to make sure of the matter, and I will bring him to 
you in a second.” 

The colonel of the Royal Auvergne left the headquarters 
and regained his hut. As he entered, he caught sight of Haudry, 
who, seated at a table, was deep in the study of an English 
book. 

“Ralph!” said M. de I’Estrade, “come here; I want to 
speak to you.” 

The lad quickly rose, put away his book, and followed the 
colonel. 


82 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“ My boy,’’ said the latter, when they were alone, “ I have 
thought of you for a mission of trust ; but before telling you 
what it is, I should like you to understand that you are quite at 
liberty to accept the commission or reject it, for it is one of 
great peril ; and though your life belongs to the king, there is 
no necessity for you so to sacrifice it.” 

‘‘ Say on, colonel,” replied the lad with firmness. Although 
my life is not worth much, I am so sensible of the good- 
will you bear towards me as to be sure that you would not 
sacrifice me without some important motive. If I can be of 
any use, let me know.” 

“That is right, my boy,” said M de I’Estrade. “ I did not 
expect anything less from you. Well, this is what is wanted. 
It appears that the English have advanced into the district 
which we crossed the other day when we went to Hartford, and 
they have cut off our communications with West Point, where 
the American general has his headquarters. An officer sent 
over there with a despatch a couple of days ago has been killed. 
It is, however, of the greatest importance that the information 
reaches General Washington without delay, for we want to let 
him know the very hour at which we are going to march 
towards a certain point. Now I thought that you could carry 
that message.” 

“ Give it to me, colonel,’’ said- Ralph with alacrity. “ I am 
ready to start at once.” 

“You will start to-morrow morning at daybreak. You can 
hardly expect to pass through the English army in your 
drummer’s uniform. You must get some clothes which will 
turn you into a young civilian. To lull suspicion, you had 


THE MARSH A HS MESSAGE. 


83 


better pass for a Canadian going to visit your relatives at 
Albany. Your French accent will certainly betray you unless 
you adopt some such precaution. Above all things, act pru- 
dently ; run no useless risk, and I hope to be able to reward 
you for your devotion. Follow me to the marshal, who will 
himself give you his orders.” 

On seeing the colonel reappear with the drummer, Rocham 
beau arose and quickly stepped towards them. 

“Is that the messenger you promised me? But he is a 
child ! ” 

“ I wish, marshal, that I had many men like this child in the 
Royal Auvergne,” answered M. de I’Estrade gravely. 

“You could not receive more flattering praise than that which 
your colonel gives you,” said Rochambeau, addressing the 
drummer. “You know what I want you to do?” 

“ Yes, marshal.” 

“ Well, here is the letter which you are to take to West 
Point ; and remember, no matter what happens, that you 
are only to deliver it into the hands of General Wash- 
ington.” 

“ As long as I live it will only leave my hands to pass into 
those of General Washington,” said Ralph respectfully, as he 
took the packet. 

“Remember this,” continued Rochambeau. “To provide 
against this despatch, in the event of your being captured, 
falling into the hands of the enemy and discovering our plans 
to him, we have left two words in it blank : the first is the 
name of the place where we are to join the American army, 
Danbury; the second is that of the town towards which we 


84 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


are marching, New York. These two words General Wash- 
ington must learn from your own lips.” 

"Danbury and New York,’’ repeated Ralph. “I will not 
forget.” 

" Well, now go, my boy, and Heaven protect you ! ” said the 
old marshal in a voice slightly trembling, for the lad’s fair 
face and proud bearing had awakened his sympathy. 

That evening Ralph obtained in Newport a suit of clothes, 
such as the ordinary people wore, a felt hat with a large 
brim, coat and breeches of stout cloth, leather leggings, and 
iron-tipped shoes, and also a small bundle so as to be quite in 
keeping with his character of a traveller. The marshal’s 
despatch was slipped beneath the lining of his coat, and 
carefully concealed. 

Ralph, with the colonel’s permission, had announced his 
departure to the gallant La Ramde, who was quite upset at 
the news and these preparations. 

The two friends passed the night chatting together, and when 
dawn appeared, Ralph divested himself of his uniform and 
folded it up carefully — not, however, without a sigh, and then 
assumed his disguise, and taking a stout stick, he started from 
the camp. 

La Ramde, who had obtained leave to accompany him to 
the end of the island, followed him, silently and with head 
bowed. 

When they had left the camp behind, the good sergeant 
suddenly said, — 

" Look you, I can’t tell you how it vexes me to see you going 
away alone.” 


THE MARSH AES MESSAGE. 


“ Perhaps you would give me the regiment as an escort ! ” 
said the lad lightly. 

“ The colonel would have done better 
to have sent me with you.” 

“And what would the drummers do 
without you ? ” answered Ralph, who tried 
by his gaiety to cheer up the spirits of 
his companion. “ Cannot you see that 
where one could pass there might not be 
room for two ? ” 

“ Oh ! could not we walk in single file ?” 
said the sergeant, whom nothing could 
convince. 

“ Besides, you w'ould have to speak 
English all the time, and you know you cannot even say 
good morning in the language.” 

“ You call that a language ! ” said La Ramee in anger. “ As 
if it were in the least like French ! English is regular gibberish, 
and I would much rather learn Auvergnat ! Well, the orders 
are that you are to be off alone, and all I can say will not alter 
them, so be careful, and if anything happens to you remember 
that it will cause some sorrow to that old brute La Ram^e.” 

Ralph, much moved, silently pressed the brave man’s hand, 
and when they reached the bank of the Connecticut Channel and 
the moment for parting had come, he stepped back suddenly 
embraced him, and escaped at a run. 

Surprised at the abrupt departure, softened by the affectionate 
adieu, La Ramde remained there, unable to take his eyes off the 
lithe young figure which he saw running along the bridge of 



86 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


boats until it disappeared amid the osiers on the opposite 
bank. 

Then the sergeant felt something trickling down outside his 
nose, and putting up his hand he wiped off a tear with the tip 
of his finger, and then he looked quickly round to see that no 
one had watched him, and then retook the road to the camp 
with, 

“ As if there was any sense in that, for a soldier ! ” 



CHAPTER X. 


THE ROAD TO WEST POINT. 

HE first part of the journey was quite a pleasant 
walk for Ralph. Swinging along with rapid 
strides he soon reached Windham. 

There, according to instructions received from 



The brave artisan was considerably astonished. 



M. de TEstrade, he sought out the smith to gain information 




88 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


from him regarding the means of getting to West Point. Mr. 
Smithson was, in the opinion of the authorities of Newport, a 
good patriot. He had been one of the first to join the 
Independence cause, and his discretion could be relied on. 
Nevertheless, Ralph told him nothing of the real object of 
his mission. 

The brave artisan was considerably astonished when he 
saw walking into his shop the young Frenchman, whom, 
notwithstanding his disguise, he immediately recognized. 
Resting on the anvil the heavy hammer with which he was 
forging an iron axle-tree, the fiercely glowing end of which 
lighted up the gloom, he exclaimed, — 

“ Hallo ! You here again, Mr. Drummer ! Have you 
smashed another wheel ? ” 

“No, dear Mr. Smithson,” replied Ralph, “this time for 
better luck, I am journeying on foot, and thanks to Heaven 
my legs only want a little rest.” 

“ If that is it,” joyfully answered the smith, “ I suppose you 
are going to avail yourself of my hospitality. It is very kind 
of you to have thought about me. You are heartily welcome. 
My house is not very cheerful since I buried Mrs. Smithson, 
but Caesar still knows how to put up a rabbit, and I have a 
bed with two down mattresses, on which you can stretch your 
limbs at your ease.” 

At the name of Caesar, pronounced so complimentarily 
by the smith, there was an answering chuckle in the angle 
of the forge, and Ralph, turning his head, saw, glittering 
in the darkness, a pair of eyes, like carbuncles, and an array 
of teeth, white as ivory, belonging to an old negro, who was 


THE ROAD TO WEST POINT, 


89 


holding on high the lever of the bellows. This witness, of 
whose presence he had had no suspicion, stopped the lad 
from saying anything of the purport of his journey, and it was 
not until Caesar had departed to kill the doomed rabbit that 
Ralph continued, — 

“ I came to see you, Mr. Smithson, to find out how I could 
get to West Point without hindrance.” 

“To get to West Point ?” exclaimed the smith. “ But you 
are not thinking of doing so t ” 

“ Marshal Rochambeau has entrusted me with a commission 
for General Washington, and cost what it may, I must reach 
West Point.” 

“ But they tell me that the red-coats are holding the road,” 
said Smithson. “ They were hereabouts only yesterday, and 
burnt the farm of Phineas Jones, near Hartford, the very 
place where your generals had the interview. I should not 
advise you to go that way ; they say they want to cut ofi 
Washington from the F rench army, and they won’t let any- 
body pass, not even the country people. If they catch you, 
they will hang you straight off, simply because you are a 
stranger.” 

“ Nevertheless, I must get through.” 

“ You seem to be a determined chap,” continued the smith, 
“and I wish I could help you. But I am a marked man 
myself, and if the English come here, the best thing I can do 
will be to cut and run from Newport. Listen to me,” he added 
after a moment or two’s thought. “ When you leave Windham 
to-morrow, get into the woods that are on the left, about half- 
way on the road to Hartford, and strike through them a 


90 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


little to the left of the point where the sun sets. That will 
take you close to Danbury, which is about forty-five miles from 
here. You will have to spend three or four days in the woods, 
without leaving them, for the English are prowling all round. 
I will give you some victuals to keep you going during the 
time, but once out of the forest, you have still got fifteen or 
eighteen miles to walk before you reach West Point. How 
are you going to manage it ? I am afraid you will find it 
very difficult, but with courage and care I hope you will 
succeed. Above all things, you must keep your eyes open.” 

Ralph passed the night at the smith’s and bid him good-bye 
in the morning. His wallet was crammed with the provisions 
which the good man had packed up for him, and which would 
have been enough to keep him supplied all the way to New 
York. 

At some distance from the town he found the woods which 
Smithson had described— a fine forest of American oaks, 
with their varied foliage and graceful forms, dotted here and 
there with clumps of lofty pines. A thick network of 
underwood covered the soil at the foot of the trees. Ralph 
took the first footpath which presented itself, and plunged 
resolutely into the shady depths. 

He made such haste that on the next day but one he 
reached the end of the forest, and saw, stretching before him, 
the extensive plain through which ran the Hudson. Here 
and there were visible the roofs of numerous farms. 

Selecting the nearest, our traveller was hurrying towards 
it, when all at once, he thought he saw among the trees a 
group of men. Taking again to the wood and following the 


THE ROAD TO WEST POINT. 


91 


edge and hidden by the undergrowth, he came near enough to 
the party to recognize that they were English soldiers. Some 
were seated on the ground, while others kept watch on the 
kettles which were hung over the bivouac fires. Near them 
were piled their muskets. By and by, from the bush where 
he lay hid, Ralph saw in the courtyard of the farm, several 
picketed horses and a great many figures clothed in red 
uniforms. 

This is what Smithson had told him, the English were on 
guard along the boundary ot the wood on the Danbury side. 

Remembering the words of Marshal Rochambeau, it at 
once struck Ralph that the surprise meditated on this point 
would prove impossible. Clinton was on his guard. But 
this had little to do with him, the point was for him to reach 
West Point, the generals could decide the rest later on ; that 
was not his business. 

So he again plunged into the woods and in a southerly 
direction, from time to time approaching the skirt, but always 
to find the English picquets encamped on the plain. 

Once even, he happened to blunder into the very centre 
of a squadron encamped under the first few trees in the forest. 
At the noise made by him as he approached, one of the 
soldiers looked keenly at the bush which concealed him, and 
had it not been for the dark colour of his clothes, he would 
certainly have been discovered. He drew away with anxious 
precautions, and rendered more prudent, he penetrated more 
deeply into the wood and journeyed on till the evening. 

Night had arrived ; he was looking about for some sheltered 
nook, where he could stretch himself on the moss, when he 


92 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


saw a light flickering through the foliage. His first movement 
\vas to flee in the opposite direction, but hearing no noise, he 
resolved to discover whence the light proceeded. Stealthily- 
advancing from tree to tree, he at length reached a sort of 
clearing which opened into the centre of the forest. At the 
foot of an aged oak a fire of twigs was merrily crackling and 
lighting up with its reflections the rough figure of a bearded 
man, who was seated close by, with his gun on his knees, 
pensively contemplating the play of the flames. At his feet 
slept a dog with pointed ears ; a little way off, the rays of the 
fire revealed the woolly backs of a few sheep, standing one 
beside the other, 

■What was this shepherd doing in the heart of the forest? 
Ralph knew not what to do, when suddenly the dog jumped 
up, and with hair bristling, came barking furiously towards the 
spot where he was standing. 

At the same moment the shepherd rose to his feet and 
seizing his gun, shouted, — 

“Who is there? Friend, or enemy, come out of your 
hiding-place, or I will put a bullet through you, and if I miss 
you, the dog will throttle you.” 

At a bound, Ralph was in the clearing, and keeping off the 
furious dog with his stick, he answered the shepherd,— 

“ I am a traveller who has lost his way, and not an 
enemy, as you will see when your dog lets me come near 
you.” 

Down, Tyrant !” shouted the man, and the dog, with its 
tail down, growlingly ran back to the sheep. 

Ralph had entered into the circle of light, and stood before 










“ Friend, or enemy, come out of your hiding place ! ” 


Page 92 















THE ROAD TO WEST POINT 


93 


the scrutinizing gaze of the shepherd, who, after a pause, 
dropped his gun and said,— 

“Anyhow, you are not a very dangerous enemy. Who 
are you?” 

“ 1 am a Canadian,” answered Ralph. “ I come from 
Windham, where I was in the employ of the smith there, 
Smithson, and I am going to Albany, where my relatives 
live. Wishing to take the shortest road to Albany, I have 
got lost in this forest. The light of your fire brought me 
hither.” 

“ I know Smithson,” said the shepherd in a rough tone, 
“ he is a brave man and a good patriot, and I am astonished 
that he allowed you to start at a time like this. Not only 
might you get lost in the forest, but before you reach Danbury 
the English will have got hold of you, and I do not know what 
they might do with you. The wisest thing for you to do would 
be to go back to Smithson and put off your journey until less 
troubled times. People don’t go travelling when the country 
is filled with fire and blood.” 

“ What could the English do to me ? ” asked Ralph. “ I am 
not a soldier ! ” 

“What would that matter to them?” replied the shepherd. 
“ Do you not know that they would like to sweep from the 
surface of the earth every one with the heart of a free man 
in his bosom ? Look at me, hiding in the woods without a 
shelter or a resting-place. A few days ago, I had there, down 
in the plain, a little place, roofed and comfortable and well 
furnished, and round it there fed my flock of two hundred sheep, 
the fattest and the finest in the valley. The English came. 


94 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


they denounced me as an American patriot, they burnt my hut, 
they stole my sheep, and I could scarcely save my own skin, 
and the twenty beasts you see there. Ah ! the thieves ! ” and 
clenching his fist at the invisible enemies, he added, “ I am 
off to Windham to sell my flock, and when I have realized 
what remains to me, they will find me with my rifle in the 
front ranks of the militiamen.” 

' Ralph seized his hand and interrupted him with, — 

see that I can trust you. Forgive me for having told you 
falsely.” 

And as the shepherd, knitting his brows, recoiled and seized 
his gun, the lad hastened to add, — 

“ I am a soldier of the army sent by the King of France to 
the help of the Americans. Marshal Rochambeau, my chief, 
has sent me with a message to General Washington, who is 
now at West Point. Help me to get through the English lines, 
and you will have done good service to the American cause, 
and perhaps have saved the army from a disaster.” 

“Why should I believe you?” objected the shepherd in a 
haughty tone. 

“ I swear that I am telling you the truth,” answered Ralph 
quietly. 

The words, or rather the tone of sincerity in which they were 
uttered, won over the rough countryman, and so he added 
more gently,— 

“ I only see one way for you to get to West Point, and that 
is for you to cross the Hudson.” 

“ Are we far from it ? ” 

“ About two hours’ walk.” 


THE ROAD TO WEST POINT. 


95 


“Well, I entreat you, show me the way ; I must go, and I 
will not lose a minute.” 

The shepherd pondered for a second. 

I will do better than that. I will go with you ; for ignorant 
of the country as you are, you will run head first into the first 
English picquet. Tyrant can remain here and look after the 
sheep ; however long 1 may be away I have no fear that he 
will lose them. But we must make haste. I must get back 
before daylight, for if the English catch me on the plain, it will 
be all up with me.” 

“ Come along, then ! ” said Ralph. 

The shepherd whistled his dog, and it came and stood in 
front of him. 

“ Tyrant,” he said, “you must remain here and look after the 
sheep ,* and mind, don’t let them stray.” 

Then tossing his gun on to his shoulder, he entered the 
wood, followed by Ralph. 

In half an hour they had reached the plain, dotted here and 
there with isolated fires. 

“ There are the English bivouacs,” observed the shepherd. 
“ Walk with as little noise as possible.” 

They advanced in silence, and cautiously passed round the 
enemy’s outposts. At last they arrived at the edge of a huge 
precipice at the foot of which extended the wide glimmering 
expanse of the Hudson. The perpendicular bluff seemed 
inaccessible to Ralph, and he asked how he was to get down to 
the river, when the shepherd showed him a sort of fissure which 
cleft the earthy mass. 

“ There’s the road,” he said. “ I can’t say it is a convenient 


96 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


one, but I have been down it a hundred times without accident. 
Go gently ; look, or rather feel, where you put your feet, for it 
is as dark as pitch, and you will soon be at the bottom. Once 
you get there, follow the course of the stream ; that will take 
you away from the English and towards West Point. You are 
sure to come across some fishing-boat or other as you go down 
the bank, and that will . take you across. Once there, half an 
hour will see you in West Point. Good-bye ! the sky is 
already growing grey. I must go back.” 

“Thanks,’’ said Ralph to him, shaking his hand. “You are 
a brave man.” 

“ Good-bye. I have only done my duty,” replied ' the 
shepherd ; and he went off with rapid strides, while the lad 
disappeared down the narrow gully. 

Carefully feeling his way with his feet, and seizing on the 
irregularities at the side with his hands, Ralph got 
down with more ease than he had hoped, and soon found 
himself on a little sandy beach between the stream and the foot 
of the cliff. At the other side of the river, about three-quarters 
of a mile off, there appeared the black confused line of the 
opposite bank. 

The lad followed the line of the beach down stream, as the 
shepherd had told him \ but after walking for an hour he had 
come across no sign of a boat. Fatigue began to gain on him, 
and in spite of the fear of being surprised by the day on the 
enemy’s bank of the river, he was forced to sit down for a few 
minutes to rest. 

He was just starting again when at a little distance off, and 
coming towards him, he heard a voice. At a bound he gained 


THE ROAD TO WEST POINT. 


97 


the foot of the cliff, and looked about for some gully which 
would help him to get up to the top. He found himself 
near a few huge fallen blocks, among which he could hide 
himself with ease. 

Scarcely had he concealed himself when, by the feeble 
reflected light of the floating mirror of the Hudson, he saw 
advancing towards him, a patrol of English soldiers, musket 
•on shoulder. In front marched two officers who were con- 
versing in a loud tone. 

“You did wrong to put out your lantern,” said one. ‘‘ I don’t 
see the use of walking along .here in the dark.” 

“Our light would have attracted the attention of the 
American vedettes ; and if, as I fancy, they are on the 
opposite bankj and they have got any boats, they could follow 
us up, and take shots at us. The commandant has been 
informed that Major Andrd was arrested yesterday, and I am 
afraid we can do nothing to save him from the fury of 
Washington. But it appears that the other has been able to 
save himself in time, and our patrols are scouring the country 
round to receive him and put him safe from pursuit.’’ 

The voices passed away down the bank of the river, and 
Ralph heard no more. 

The words, however, had startled him. What was the 
matter? What was this about the arrest of Major Andr^, 
and the escape of “ the other,” which so greatly agitated the 
English ? 

Once more he found himself -perplexed. Mysterious dangers 
enveloped him on all sides. If he continued his route towards 
West Point, he would assuredly meet another English patrol ; 


98 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


if he went in the other direction he would walk into the enemy’s 
lines. 

One way only was open to him, that of the Hudson ; but how 
was he to cross it without a boat ? By swimming, perhaps ; 
but that was a very perilous enterprise. The river hereabouts 
was quite an arm of the sea, where the effect of the tide was 
considerable, and the consequent increase of the speed of the 
current something alarming. Moreover, the water at this 
season was of icy coldness, and the lad gave a shiver when he 
tried it with his hand. 

Ralph, however, was no ordinary swimmer ; from his youngest 
days he had revelled in the cold and limpid waters of the 
Cher. One exploit had given him quite a reputation in the 
Montrichard country. Bathing one day in the deep branch 
which separates the island of Angd from the Berri bank, 
opposite Vineuil, he found himself near the mill-wheel. Acting 
on a sudden foolish thought, he allowed himself to be drawn 
towards it, and just as he was about to be struck by it, he 
seized hold of one of the paddles of the wheel, which, in its 
giddy sweep, brought him round on to the summit. An instant 
later and it would have swept him into the abyss ; but without 
hesitating he sprang into the foaming water, from whence he 
soon emerged some twenty paces lower down, to the intense 
astonishment of the miller, who had been watching his pro- 
ceedings. His mother, much alarmed at the recital of this 
adventure, made him promise never to attempt it again, and the 
promise he kept. 

In spite of this remembrance Ralph contemplated the 
Hudson with a good deal of hesitation. He walked along the 


THE ROAD TO WEST POINT. 


99 


bank, shuddering a little at the idea of plunging into the glacial 
water. On passing round an enormous block, he saw a black 
object floating in the stream. He stepped towards it, and 
great was his delight to find, moored to a stake, one of those 
narrow birch -bark canoes used by the hardy fishermen of North 
America. 

The abandoned canoe was in a very bad state of repair, for the 
water half filled it, but it promised to serve his purpose. The 
paddle had been left with it. With his hands he baled out 
some of the water. Then he jumped boldly into the canoe, and 
seizing the paddle, pushed himself off from the bank. 

Above all things, he wished to make no noise, lest he should 
attract the attention of the enemy. The night was still dark, 
though the dawn was announcing itself in the east. 

However, notwithstanding all he could do, the canoe 
struggled with difficulty against the current, which drifted him 
down stream without taking him near the opposite bank. 
Sometimes the frail skiff, through his clumsy handling, would 
rock again, and threaten to capsize. At last, with a determined 
effort, he managed to cross the current ; and in spite of the 
gloom of the night, the cliff on the right bank towered up dis- 
tinctly in front of him, about 200 yards ahead. Almost im- 
mediately afterwards Ralph found the water rising in the canoe. 
Hitherto it had washed about the floor; it now rose and covered 
his legs and threatened to reach the gunwale. Evidently some 
crack had opened in the rotten wood, and the canoe was about 
to sink. 

This time Ralph had no choice left ; he must gain the bank 
by swimming. In spite of the icy temperature of the water, it 


L.of C. 


lOO 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


did not seem to him to be a very difficult task. Many times he 
had crossed the Loire at Chaumont, and what remained of the 
Hudson did not seem more terrifying than that ; and so he 
soon made up his mind. 

Quickly he stripped off his clothes and folded them into a 
bundle, carefully placing uppermost the side of his coat which 
contained the hidden despatch from the marshal. Then with 
his stout leather strap he fastened the bundle on to his 
shoulders. 

That done, he waited for a minute as he felt the canoe 
sinking under his feet. With it he sank quietly into the 
stream, and then cautiously struck out for the shore. He 
advanced with long, powerful strokes, but not hurriedly. The 
current was still more violent than he had thought, and swept 
him down. 

After a quarter of an hour’s work, he stopped and trod 
water, so as to look around him. Then he found the cold 
gaining on him, and he made a fresh start. But before an- 
other ten minutes his benumbed legs refused to strike, and he 
had to go on swimming with his arms alone. In vain he did all 
he could to reach the beach, the victorious current drew him 
along like a cork. 

And then he becomes distracted; forgetful of everything, seeing 
only death before him— an inevitable death— he utters a wild 
scream, which the cliff gives back to him in a prolonged echo. 
His desperate hands wildly beat the water ; gradually his body 
begins to sink. His knee strikes against a stone so violently 
that he gasps an exclamation of pain, quickly changed to one 
ot delight as his hands touch the ground. 


THE ROAD TO WEST POINT. 


lOI 


Swiftly he drags himself up on the beach beyond the reach of 
the stream, but scarcely has he done so when his senses leave 
him, and he lies icy, inanimate, stretched on the sand. 



CHAPTER XI. 


BENEDICT ARNOLD. 

F Ralph had lain but one hour stretched cold and 
naked on the shore, he would never have awaked ; 
but the rest succeeding to the terrible struggle 
brought on a rapid reaction in the young robust 
body ; the blood began to circulate, the heart again beat, and 
with the warmth the life returned. The freshness of the breeze 



The old woman took from the cupboard a loaf and a plateful of cold 

pork. 




BENEDICT ARNOLD. 


103 


was soon felt by the reanimated limbs, and the lad shook off 
his sleep. 

He remained for a few minutes unable to make out where 
he was, but he soon recalled the many incidents of that long 
night. He could not have left the water long, for the stars were 
still twinkling among the clouds. 

He got up, and then he found that his bundle was no longer 
on his shoulders. The current during his desperate convul- 
sions must have washed it off, and the precious packet had 
disappeared in the stream. If so, all his efforts and all his 
devotion were futile. He had failed at the very moment he was 
reaching the goal. 

Heart-broken, he wandered along the beach, looking at the 
river as if it would pity him, and give him back his treasure. 
At length, amongst the rocks which bordered the shore, he per- 
ceived a dark mass. He ran towards it, and bending down 
discovered the clothes, which had been swept away from him in 
his struggle. At once he searched for and made sure of the 
letter in the lining of his coat. The letter 
was in its place intact, the water had not 
even soiled it. 

Ralph feverishly slipped into his clothes 
and hurriedly strode off from the river. A 
narrow footpath ascended the bank, which 
here was less steep than on the other side. 
In a few minutes the lad had gained the 
plain, and saw outlined against the sky 
the sombre mass of a group of houses a 

^ ^ little distance off. A light was burning 



104 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


at the window of one of them. But this time Ralph was in a 
friendly country, under the guns of the fortress at West Point, 
and so, without a moment’s hesitation, he started off for the 
village. 

The light which guided him brought him to one of the first 
houses. The door was open. He entered and recognized at a 
glance that he was in an inn. Tables arranged along the wall were 
still covered with bottles and plates — the remains of the even- 
ing repast of some benighted travellers. Without any surprise 
at the circumstance, Ralph walked up to a table, sat down at it, 
and as no one appeared to take his orders, he gave a few raps 
with the bottom of an empty glass. A door at the end of the 
room opened, and gave admittance to an old woman who slowly 
entered. 

“ My good woman,” said Ralph, I have got lost on the 
plain, and as your inn is open at such an early hour, I shall be 
much obliged, if you will give me something to eat and drink, 
for I am literally dying of hunger.” 

Without a word, the old woman took from a cupboard a loaf 
and a plateful of cold pork, which she set before Ralph. Then 
she added a jug of frothing beer, which she drew from a cask in 
a corner of the room. 

The lad literally devoured these things. 
When all the bread and the beer and the 
pork had disappeared, he lifted his head. 
The taciturn innkeeper was sitting quietly 
near him peaceably knitting. 

“Can you tell me,” asked Ralph, “how 
far I am from West Point ? ” 



BENEDICT ARNOLD. 


105 


The old woman looked at him fixedly, without opening her 
lips. The lad asked if she was dumb, and then she made up 
her mind to say, — 

“Are you going to West Point ?’* 

Ralph started. Each time he had asked this question of 
any one, he had been answered in the same doubting and 
" astonished fashion. 

“As I have just had the honour of telling you,’’ he said. 
“ What do you find surprising in it ? ” 

The old woman turned her head towards the window in an 
embarrassed manner, and then with an effort replied, — 

“West Point is nine good miles from here, and if you 
want to get there this morning, you had better start at 
once.” 

Ralph arose, took a few coins from his pocket, and laid them 
on the table. The old woman’s embarrassment had not escaped 
him. What new danger was threatening ? 

“ In these times of war,” he said, “ the roads are not over safe, 
and although I am not rich, I do not care to risk being carried 
off by some party of English foragers. Do you think anything 
will happen on the road ? ” 

“ I do not know,” said the woman in almost a whisper ; 
“but I entreat you, young man, go away from here at 
once.’’ 

■ “Thank you for your advice,” said Ralph. And, seizing 
his stick, he gained the door. A firm step at the same instant 
was heard outside. 

Uneasy, the lad retreated into the darkest angle he could 
find. 


io6 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


At the same moment a stranger appeared on the threshold. 
Of tall stature and haughty bearing, he wore a three-cornered 
hat, trimmed with gold lace, and was wrapped in a large black 
cloak, which he raised as he entered, and showed beneath it the 
blue uniform with gold embroidery of the officers of the American 
army. 

Ralph could hardly repress a cry of joy when he recognized in 
the strange officer the general whom he had seen with Washing- 
ton at Hartford. Benedict Arnold, the celebrated patriot, the 
hero of Behmus ! And forgetting the rules of military etiquette, 
he stepped out of the shadow, exclaiming, — 

Ah, general ! Heaven has sent you here ! ” 

Arnold, occupied in speaking in a low voice to the old inn- 
keeper, turned sharply round at these words as if stung by a 
serpent. His handsome face darkened, his eyes shot fire, 
and in an angry tone he advanced towards the young French- 
man with, — 

“ Who are you ? Who gave you permission to speak to me 
like that ? ” 

Ralph innocently supposed that he recognized him, and 
attributing his anger to the way in which he had addressed 
him, drew himself up, and, giving the military salute, 
said, — 

“ I beg pardon, general, if the unexpectedness of this meeting 
made me forget my duty. My name is Ralph Haudry, a drum- 
mer in the French regiment of Royal Auvergne, and I am 
away from my regiment at the orders of the Baron de I’Estrade. 
my colonel, and am in charge of a message to General Wash- 
ington from Count Rochambeau.” 


BENEDICT ARNOLD, 


107 


“ Oh, indeed ! ” said Arnold, in a suddenly softened tone. “ I 
did not recognize under that disguise a messenger from the 
marshal.” 

“ Notwithstanding the disguise, sir,” answered the lad, “ I 
found it very difficult to get through the enemy’s lines, for you 
are doubtless aware that the English are in possession of the 
road from Newport to the Hudson.” 

I know that,” said the officer. “ General Washington has 
been waiting for this message for some time, and he is sorry 
that it did not reach him before he left West Point.” 

“ General Washington has quitted West Point ? ” asked Ralph 
in a disappointed tone. Where -is he, then, at this moment ? 
For my orders are to reach him without delay.” 

“ I am not allowed to tell you where the chief is at present ; 
but before his departure he charged me expressly to forward to 
him myself any despatch that might be addressed to him from 
the French camp. I will send on at once by one of my officers 
the message that you give me.” 

“ Impossible, sir,” said Ralph, firmly and respectfully. “The 
instructions given me by Count Rochambeau were most pre- 
cise. I am only to give the despatch I carry to General 
Washington himself.” 

“Do you forget who I am, then, that you doubt my word?” 
replied the officer, visibly losing patience. 

“ I know quite well who you are, sir,” said the lad ; “ for I 
saw you at Hartford on the 17th of September. You are 
General Arnold.” 

“Well, then, you will find that my responsibility is enough 
to cover yours, and I order you to hand over the letter.” 


io8 


THE DRUMMEEBOY. 


“ But — ” stammered Ralph. 

If you do not,” continued Arnold, I must use force.” 

“ I obey, general,” said Ralph. But I hope you will inform 
Marshal Rochambeau that it is on your formal order that I 
have had to act contrary to my instructions.” 

And taking a knife from his pocket, he opened the lining 
of his coat and drew out the letter, which he handed to 
Arnold. 

“ It is well,” said the latter, greedily snatching the despatch, 
and, without thinking, he, was placing his fingers oh the seal, 
when Ralph interrupted him with, — 

“Did I not say that the ’letter was addressed to General 
Washington ? ” 

“ Quite so,” said Arnold, who slipped the despatch into a 
pocket of his coat. “ Just wait here a minute, and I will go and 
wake some one who will take care of you.” 

He was coming towards the door, when he caught sight of 
the innkeeper, who was still knitting in the corner. 

“ Ah, old lady ! ” he exclaimed, “ you had better get back to 
your room. We do not want you here any longer.” 

The woman rose and left without a word ; but as she passed 
the lad, she gave him a look which seemed to him to be full of 
pity. 

Arnold went out immediately after her. Ralph remained 
alone, and, suddenly seized with a vague fear, began to look 
around in search of a means of escape. Then his fright 
appeared to him to be ridiculous. What had he to fear from 
Washington’s most trusted lieutenant? Had he not heard 



OliPPO 




ll 


DvjBfl 

It 










“ Take charge of this boy, and keep him safe ! ” 


Page 109 






BENEDICT ARNOLD. 


109 


before of the strange fantastic character of the conqueror of 
Behmus ? Likely enough that by his bearing and speech he had 
annoyed Benedict Arnold, and hence the strange reception 
which had been given to him. Half reassured, he awaited the 
return of the general. 

A few minutes only elapsed. 

Heavy, regular steps were heard on the road. The general 
appeared, and behind him were several soldiers with bayonets 
fixed. Ralph started back to the end of the room ; for in the 
new arrivals he recognized the scarlet uniforms of Clinton’s 
fusiliers. 

But as he rushed towards the door whence the hostess had 
disappeared, Arnold ran after him, and, catching him by the 
arm, exclaimed, — 

Soldiers, take charge of this boy, and keep him safe !” 

“What does that mean 1 ” asked the lad, finding himself 
roughly seized by the soldiers. 

“ It means that I alone command here, and that in the name 
of his Majesty King George the Third, my gracious sovereign, 
I have arrested you as a spy in the pay of traitors and 
rebels.’’ 

As he spoke Arnold broke the seals, and opening the despatch 
addressed by Rochambeau to Washington, greedily perused its 
contents. 

Ralph looked at him, thunderstruck. The blow was so un- 
expected, so sudden, that his bewildered mind refused to ex- 
plain it. No, it was not — it could not be possible ! The man 
before him could not be the same officer, the glorious soldier 


no 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


of whom the general-in-chief, in his presence, had spoken so 
eulogistically to the marshal. 

He was the victim of a fatal resemblance. And so he, 
ventured to ask, — 

“ Sir, excuse my question, but you are not really General 
Arnold, the commandant of the American fortress at West 
Point?” 

“ I am as I ^told you — General Benedict Arnold, — now, 
thanks to the clemency of his Majesty the King of England, a 
brigadier in the British Army.” 

“Then, sir,” cried the lad, advancing towards the general 
in spite of the soldiers who held on to him, “ not content with 
betraying your faith, your oath, your country, you have stooped 
to add another glory to yourself, and deprived a poor boy of 
a sacred trust, and taken away from him what is dearer than his 
life, his honour. Oh ! it is abominable ! ” 

Pallid with rage, Arnold drew one of his pistols from his belt, 
and pointed it at Ralph. But the latter remained undaunted, 
and continued, — 

“ You can kill me, and add another crime to your in- 
famy, but you cannot prevent my telling you before I 
die that you are an unmitigated scoundrel, and a miserable 
traitor ! ” 

Furious at the insult, the general made a step forward so 
as to make sure of his victim ; but a sudden thought struck 
him, and he threw his weapon on to the table, saying to the 
soldiers, — 

“ Throttle the fellow, and gag him, so that I shall never hear 


BENEDICT ARNOLD. 


Ill 


his serpent’s tongue again. It is not for me to do justice on 
spies.” » 

And while the soldiers dragged Ralph away, Arnold, contein 
plating again the marshal’s despatch, exclaimed, — 

It wants two words ! I have been too hasty. But when 
the boy’s anger has cooled down, I will get them out of him.” 






CHAPTER XII. 

TREASON. 

EATED on the summit of the rocks which overhang 
the course of the Hudson, hereabouts narrowed 
by the projecting cliffs, West Point was a natural 
fortress. 

Washington, with the eye of genius, appreciated the import- 




“ Who are you, stranger?” 



TREASON. 


”3 


ance of the position, and had made it the bulwark of the cause 
of Independence. Profiting by the marvellous defences created 
by nature, he had placed his citadel on the very crest of the 
precipice, and girdled it on the plain side with a line of entrench- 
ments, furnished with formidable batteries, and guarded at each 
extremity by two detached forts. 

On the river side the escarpment of the cliff rendered all 
attempts of the enemy impossible. But in order to prevent 
floating batteries from taking up their position in the neighbour- 
hood, he had stretched across the Hudson an enormous chain, 
so placed as to admit only vessels of trifling tonnage. That 
done, he had collected in the citadel all the provisions necessary 
for his army ; and West Point became the military capital of 
the Union. 

To surrender this place to the enemy was not only to deprive 
themselves of any secure base of operations, but to cut off the 
army of Washington from the French expeditionary force, isolate 
the revolted states of New England from Carolina and the 
colonies of the south, and subject New York to constant menace. 
In a word, to crush the revolj and finish the war. 

The English thoroughly understood this, and all their efforts 
were directed to this end. What force promised to take some 
time to do, stratagem and treason offered to do readily and 
quickly. 

The traitor was Benedict Arnold, the governor of the fortress. 
Fearing eventual defeat, and brooding vengeance for a trifling 
reprimand which a court-martial had ordered him to receive 
from the commander-in-chief, he entered into communications 
with the English, and stated his terms. The negotiations took 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


1 14 

some little time, and at length a messenger was sent to him to 
complete the infamous contract. 

That messenger was Major Andrd, an officer of Swiss origin 
In the English service, a young man of great courage and 
honesty, who, as was natural, saw in the Americans but armed 
rebels against the country of his adoption. An old friendship 
between him and Arnold facilitated the task. From the first 
Arnold had shown the wretched spirit which was hidden under 
his brilliant chivalrous exterior. Without hesitation he had 
undertaken to sell his country, and for gold to perjure his faith 
as soldier and patriot. Moreover, in the fury which had inspired 
the renegade with his hateful project, he had even resolved 
to involve his protector and benefactor in the ruin which he 
had devised. 

The general-in-chief was on a journey to Massachusetts, 
Arnold decided to wait for his return before putting the plot 
into execution so as to deliver at one and the same time 
the heart and the head of the American Union, West Point 
and Washington. 

At last a courier brought the news of the approaching return 
of his chief. It was therefore necessary to act without loss of 
time. 

Arnold sent off to the English, and an arrangement was 
made for Major Andr^ to meet him at Longclove on the banks 
of the Hudson. 

On a dark night two boats gliding silently across the river 
brought the conspirators to the rendezvous. Arnold, uneasy 
in spite of the thick darkness, took the major among the 
thickest of the osier-beds which fringed the river. There in 


TREASON. 


115 

an agitated voice the traitor disclosed to the tempter the plan 
skilfully contrived for the surrender of West Point. 

Advancing rapidly along the Hudson, Clinton was to feign an 
attack on its front. While the easily provoked Americans left 
their entrenchments to pursue the retreating enemy, an English 
detachment was to arrive on the opposite side by a road running 
at the foot of a ravine, and at one of the gates they would find 
Arnold ready to introduce them into the stronghold. 

‘‘ This plan,” continued the traitor, “ is here drawn up in my 
own handwriting, but before giving it to you, I must have what 
has been promised.” 

“ Very good,” said the major, with difficulty suppressing his 
disgust, “ give and take, I understand you ; but the place seems 
to me to be rather badly chosen, for in the darkness it will be 
as hard for you to see what you receive, as for me to see what 
I give you.” 

“ That is true,” said Arnold. “ Let us go somewhere else. A 
hundred yards off I know a farmer who is quite devoted to me, 
and who, if we are surprised, can furnish us with the means 
of escape. We can manage more easily in a room at his 
place.” 

The conspirators left the osier-bed and reached the farm of 
Longclove, where the owner lent them a room. Then Arnold 
enlarged on his plan, and explained all its details to the major. 
And when it came to be the latter’s turn to hand over the price 
of the treason, the traitor, with eyes burning with’ eagerness, 
snatched up the papers, which included a commission signed by 
Clinton, nominating Benedict Arnold as general of brigade in 
the British Army, and an order on New York to pay the said 


ii6 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


General Arnold the sum of 20,000/. Both ambition and 
cupidit)^ were equally rewarded. 

During the interview, the night had passed, and when the 
conspirators came out of the farmhouse, they found that the sun 
was up and shedding its first rays on the fields of Connecticut. 
What was to be done ? The major could not again go by the 
river without exposing himself to the fire of the American 
vedettes echelonned along the right bank. On the other hand 
his English uniform exposed him on land to many a dangerous 
meeting, although the English lines were very extensive. The 
farmer, appealed to for help, proposed civilian’s clothes and a 
horse, and the suggestion was accepted. 

Having changed his costume, Andrd mounted, said good-bye 
to Arnold, and disappeared at a gallop. Now that the work was 
accomplished, the brave officer was utterly disgusted with himself 
at the part he had played. The base cupidity of Arnold seemed 
thoroughly shocking, and the disguise which he had had to 
assume was most repugnant to him. 

“ I am not a soldier now,” he murmured. “ I am a spy. 
That is the law of war.” 

However, he could not he very far from the English lines. 
He could make out their positions. All of a sudden he saw, 
about fifty paces in front, three men who seemed to be watching 
him, and who had up to then been hidden by a rise in the 
ground. He was going to turn his horse’s head at the risk of a 
bullet or two, for the men were armed with guns, when by their 
dress he thought he recognized them as “ Cowboys,” such being 
the name of a body of volunteers which the English had raised 
from among the dregs of the colonial population, consisting 


REASON. 


117 

for the most part of old shepherds, butchers, or convicts, who 
scoured the country in advance of the English army, thieving, 
burning, and spreading terror among the country people sus- 
pected of patriotism, and who, it was asserted, were not over 
particular about pillaging an occasional isolated loyalist. 

Cowboys, however, would hesitate to molest a British officer, 
and the major kept on towards them without apprehension. 
When he had reached them, one of the men jumped at the 
horse’s bridle, and said to Andre in a gruff voice, “ Who are 
you, stranger ? Where are you going at this rate ? ” 

“ Let me pass, my lads,’’ said the officer gaily, “ any delay 
will be dangerous to the cause.” 

“ What cause do you serve then ? ’’ asked the man. 

“ Why yours, my friends, the cause of the Cowboys,” replied 
Andrd. 

Oh, the cause of the Cowboys ! ’’ said the man slowly. 
“ Well then, my hearty, you have mistaken the flag. We are 
not Cowboys, but good patriot Flayers^ so look sharp and get 
off your horse.” 

The major found himself caught in his own trap, but 
a ray of hope presented itself to 'him, and he replied very 
quietly, — 

“Let us understand each other. When I saw you, I took you 
for Cowboys, and as I did not want to be stopped, I thought it 
best to do as others do ; but I am all the same a good patriot 
like you, and can show you immediate proof thereof. Here is a 
pass signed by your general, Benedict Arnold.” 

And he held out to another of the Flayers, who had come up, 
the pass with Arnold’s signature. Unfortunately the man could 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


ii8 

not read or write, neither could his two companions, and so 
having looked at the paper all over, he said with great serious- 
ness, — 

“ I am not satisfied with this pass. You must come with 
us to the village close by, and explain yourself to our cap- 
tain.” 

And now the major felt that he was lost. Digging his spurs 
into his horse he tried to get away, but one of the Flayers, who 
had seen his intention, caught him by the leg, roughly un- 
horsed him, and threw him on the ground. Before he could 
get up a powerful grasp was on his throat. He tried a last 
effort. 

“ I have two hundred guineas in my pocket,” he said, let 
me go and they are yours.” 

“ Two hundred guineas ! ” said one of the Flayers. “Well, 
that is worth having, but we don’t want your permission to have 
them. What we find is ours, that is the rule of the Flayers.” 

And, without being able to resist, the unfortunate officer saw 
pass into the hands of his enemies not only his purse, but all 
the papers relating to the plot and the plan drawn up by 
Arnold. 

“We’ll have these things,” said one of the men. “The gold 
will do for us, the papers will do for the captain.” 

Bewildered and quite powerless, the major followed his 
captors without a word. 

Meanwhile Arnold had rowed down the Hudson, mounted 
his horse, and regained West Point, where he was received with 
the usual military honours. The speed of his journey, and the 
keen air of the morning had heightened the colour on his 


TI^EASON. 


119 

cheeks, and with head erect and a heart full of joy and pride, 
he passed through the gate of the citadel he had just sold to 
the enemy. 

But as he neared his house he was for a moment surprised, 
and a cloud settled on his face. He saw two men dismounting 
from their horses before the headquarters, and these two men 
were no other than Washington and La Fayette. 

“Already ! ’’ he muttered involuntarily. But quickly regain- 
ing his coolness, he urged on his horse, and leaping to the 
ground advanced towards his chief with a cheerful smile, and 
greeted him with, — 

“ I did not expect you back so soon, general.” 

“And I myself did not expect to be at West Point to-day,” 
replied Washington ; “ but the Marquis of La Fayette, who has 
just joined me, is uneasy at the long silence of Marshal 
Rochambeau. We want to know if you have any information 
from the French camp.” 

“ None, general,” replied Arnold respectfully. 

“It is extraordinary,” interrupted La Fayette ; “the marshal 
told me a month ago that he had several propositions to 
send on to you.” 

“ We must talk to you, Arnold, about this important matter,” 
said Washington. “ For the moment I am as hungry as a hunter. 
I have been riding all the morning, and I warn you that I shall 
do honour to your table. Mrs. Arnold very kindly asked us 
to breakfast as soon as she heard we had come, and we can 
talk as we eat. Your charming wife is too good a patriot for us 
to hide anything from her.” 

Arnold bowed, and the officers entered the house. 


120 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


In spite of the serious state of affairs, the talk was very 
animated. Mrs. Arnold not only had the reputation of being 
the most gracious of patriots, she was also well known for her wit 
and good taste, and young La Fayette was only too happy to 
find himself in such company to allow the conversation to 
wander on dry strategic discussions. 

The repast neared its end without mention of Rochambeau and 
his schemes. According to American custom Mrs. Arnold had 
risen, and was herself attending to the making of the tea, when 
a negro domestic entered and handed a letter to General Arnold. 
The latter, after an apology to his guests, carelessly opened the 
note, but scarcely had he done so and read the first words than his 
face became frightfully pale and his hand trembled with emotion. 
For a moment his eyes remained fixed on the paper, and then 
slowly he looked up at Washington and La Fayette, who were 
quietly chatting away and seemed to have taken no notice of 
his agitation. 

With the indomitable determination which he showed in 
every act in his life, Arnold, finding himself unwatched, instantly 
recovered his self-command. He drank a single draught from 
a glass of water, and, rising, said in a calm voice, — 

“ I beg you will excuse me, gentlemen, if I leave you alone. 
I hear a report has come in from Fort Putnam. I am going to 
have a look at it, and will be back immediately.” 

“ Do so, we will wait for you,” said Washington. 

As he reached the door, Arnold made a sign to his wife, who 
followed him. 

“I am going to leave you,” said he, when they were out of 
earshot ; “ perhaps for ever. Do not ask the reason of my going 


TREASON. 


I2T 


away so abruptly, you will know it too soon, and you will see 
that I have done the best for you, as well as for myself. But at 
this moment my life depends on a minute. If I do not reach 
the enemy’s lines I am lost.” 

And for the last time embracing his astounded wife, he rushed 
away. Feverishly he reached the stable, jumped on a horse, 
and tore through one of the gates of the tortress, saluted by the 
guard. 

A quarter of an hour passed on. The two generals remaining 
in the room continued their conversation without a suspicion 
of what had passed, when an American officer hurriedly entered 
and handed Washington a letter. . 

“ I beg pardon, general, for coming in like this, but the 
matter admits of no delay.’’ 

Washington opened the letter. The captain of the Flayers 
informed him of the arrest oi Major Andre and the discovery 
amongst the prisoner’s papers of a plan proving the treason of 
General Benedict Arnold. 

The American commander-in-chief after finishing his reading 
heaved a profound sigh, and handed the letter to La Fayette. 
‘‘ Look and read,” he said, “whom can we trust now And 
addressing the officer who had brought the despatch he said, — 

“Take General Benedict Arnold under arrest immediately.” 
But Mrs. Arnold approached with, — 

“ It will be quite useless, gentlemen. My husband has gone, 
and before you can reach him he will have gained the English 
lines.” 

“ What, madame,” said Washington in a tone of sadness, 
“ have you also betrayed our noble cause?’’ 


122 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“Oh! sir!” sobbed the poor woman, bursting into tears, 
“ could you think that of me ? I knew nothing, or I would 
have stopped it ; ” and she sank half dead with grief on a 
chair, while Washington walked out of the room, saying to La 
Fayette, “We must act without loss of time, and reply to 
treason by force.” 




CHAPTER XIII. 

AN EYE FOR AN EYE. 

RNOLD was on his way from West Point, his 
heart bursting with rage. The treason so long in 
preparation had been useless after all, and the plot 
so well thought out had collapsed at the last 
moment. In an instant, at one stroke, had been annihilated 
the results of his long faithlessness to the American cause 



A cavalryman with his carbine at the “ present 



124 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


The goal of all his schemings was now unattainable. What 
would Clinton say when he saw him a powerless fugitive ? 

Probably disavow him, and refuse to keep the promises made 
to Major Andrd ! And so everything would fail him, and that 
by the silly thoughtlessness of his accomplice. 

In his fury he dug the spurs into the flanks of his horse, and 
the wretched animal, maddened with pain, and white with foam, 
flew straight across the country at a frantic gallop, taking the 
hedges and ditches in its stride. The very speed of his flight 
seemed to increase Arnold’s anger, and each time that the 
gallant steed showed signs of tiring he urged it on again with 
brutal frenzy. For two hours he had sped across the plains 
without even knowing towards what point he was moving, 
when all of a sudden he was r9used from his unconsciousness 
by a shout in front of him, — “ Halt ! Who’s there ?” 

Fifty paces in advance, in the middle of the road, he saw a 
cavalryman with his carbine at the present, but at the same 
moment he recognized the English uniform. 

Pulling up, so abruptly that his horse reared on its haunches, 
the fugitive rose in his stirrups, and waving his hat shouted 
“ Hurrah for King George and Old England ! ” 

A few seconds afterwards the guard came up, and took him 
before their officer. 

“To whom have I the honour of speaking?^’ asked the 
Englishman. 

“To General Benedict Arnold, brigadier in the army of his 
Britannic Majesty,” replied Arnold boldly. 

“ I was waiting for you, sir,” answered the officer. “ His Excel- 
lency the commander-in-chief having been this morning informed 


AN EYE FOR AN EYE. 


125 


of the arrest of Major Andr6, thought that you would try and reach 
our lines. But having decided to move back to Danbury, to 
prepare for some sudden movement of the Americans, he ordered 
me to look out for you. ' Supposing that you would not be able 
to cross the Hudson above this point, I passed the river, and 
echelonned my vedettes across the plain so as to intercept you. 

I am glad I succeeded.” 

“ All is for the best, sir,” said Arnold. How many men 
have you here ? ” 

“ I have two hundred men of my own regiment, the Innis- 
killing Dragoons, and a few Hessian Fusiliers.” 

“ General Clinton has given you no orders for me 1 ” 

“ None, general.” 

“ In that case I will wait her(» if you think fit, till he sends 
me his instructions. Let me have some writing-materials. I 
hope you will let him have my despatch without delay.” 

“ I am at your orders,” said the officer respectfully. 

The conversation took place before the 
door of the village inn. Arnold entered, 
sat down at a table, and wrote to Clinton 
the following letter : — 

“ Excellency,— 

“ It is in vain that I have made 
for His Majesty the greatest sacrifice 
which a man can make, and that I have 
laid at his feet a whole life of honour 
and devotion. If what I desired had 
succeeded, I should have been a hero ; 
as it failed, I am a traitor. I once hoped 



126 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


that this beautiful and unhappy country would have been 
delivered by my aid from the vile self-seekers who oppress 
it, and who, not content with blaspheming their mother 
country, have implored the aid of France, its ancient foe. This 
hope has been shattered, and all the reward I shall receive for 
my efforts will be opprobrium and poverty. Tell his Majesty 
that I refuse the money which he has offered to me, and that 
I could only have accepted it for my impoverished family ; but I 
entreat him to give me some position in his army, however 
humble it may be. 

“ If however, in spite of my ill-success, your excellency con- 
siders that I am justified in keeping the rank of brigadier which 
has been sent to me, I repeat that I will do all I can to merit 
your confidence. • 

“ Give me the 200 Inniskilling Dragoons which are here. 
With them I will boldly dash into Virginia, unite the well- 
disposed people who now wander in its woods, and pro- 
claim a reign of terror in that opulent province. The mem- 
bers of the factious Assembly will tremble when they see the 
flames devouring their plantations ; and Washington himself will 
groan when he hears I am nearing Mount Vernon. Once the 
cupidity of these rebels is touched, their resolution may possibly 
falter, and they may come over to our cause. 

“ Whichever way you decide, 

“ I remain, 

“Your Excellency’s very humble 

“Benedict Arnold.” 

After he had written it, he read over this Tetter, at once so 
meek and so haughty, so full of perfidy and cowardly hate. 


AN EYE FOR AN EYE, 


127 


Then having folded and sealed it, he handed it to a dragoon to 
take to Danbury. 

In reality, Arnold hesitated to appear in the English camp. 
Even if Clinton did continue his rank of brigadier-general, 
he felt that, notwithstanding his impudence, he could not endure 
without a blush the glances of his comrades. And besides, the 
success of the British cause was of little matter to him ; in his 
heart there remained the burning hate against Washington, 
whose continued favours were to him but as outrages. It was 
on him, on him alone, that he lived to be revenged. 

The same evening the messenger brought back Clinton’s 
answer. 

“ The failure of your attempt,” wrote he to Arnold, “can in 
no way be imputed to you. You have simply sacrificed for the 
king a position which you had gallantly attained. I shall not 
therefore cancel the appointment of brigadier which you owe to 
the royal clemency. Use it for the good of our cause. 

‘‘You can take the Inniskilling Dragoons, as you wish, and 
direct the operations on the north of Virginia ; but in regard 
thereto you must concert your measures with Lord Cornwallis, 
whose headquarters are on the Chesapeake.” 

Arnold had triumphed. After calling together the officers of 
the dragoons, he communicated to them the commander-in- 
chiefs instructions, and ordered them to prepare to march at 
daybreak. 

He wished to get away from the neighbourhood of West 
Point as quickly as possible, for fear the Americans should cut off 
his route to the south. Even fatigues and excitement such as 
these could not affect his iron soul. Disdaining to take any 


128 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


rest, he passed the night in the room of the inn, discussing his 
plans with his new officers. As day approached, he went out 
with them to watch the start, and it was then that the poor 
drummer of the Royal Auvergne reached the same inn, and 
became the victim of another of his crimes. 

The soldiers who had taken Ralph had handcuffed him, and 
thrown him on the crupper of one of the dragoons’ horses ; and 
as the boot and saddle ” sounded they left the village, with the 
others, as the day spread over the horizon. 

Three hours later the detachment came in sight of West Point. 
Arnold, marching at its head, had brought the men within view 
of the American fortress, and then in a kind of theatrical 
bravado he had ridden his horse up a neighbouring hil- 
lock, and rising in his stirrups pointed his hand at the 
citadel which he had tried to sell. But the insurgent artillery- 
men seemed to be on the watch, for at the same moment a small 
cloud of smoke rose from the ramparts, and then a cannon-ball 
whistled pass Arnold’s head, and buried itself in the ground a 
few paces off. 

“ Clumsy ! ” muttered the deserter, who resumed his place at 
the head of the troop. 

From West Point, Arnold made a forced march to the south. 
The despatch stolen from Ralph had made him hesitate a little 
as to the route he should follow, and he thought at the moment 
that fate had already put in his power the vengeance he was 
going to seek in Virginia. But the despatch was incomplete, 
and the two words left blank by Rochambeau would have indi- 
cated precisely the rendezvous of the French and American 
troops and the point of attack. It was necessary then, cost 


AN EYE FOR AN EYE, 


129 


what it might, to obtain these two words from the young mes- 
senger sent with them by the Marshal to Washington. 

To obtain this object Arnold at first tried persuasion. At 
the first camping-ground he ordered Ralph to be released and 
treated like the soldiers. But the lad maintained an angry 
silence, and neither promises nor threats could get a word out 
of him. 

A few days later the troop reached the banks of the Delaware 
which hereabouts flows through wild wooded gorges. The 
whole of this region, now peopled and cultivated, was then but a 
solitude, with here and there a backwoodsman’s hut. 

The detachment on march since the morning had not come 
across a single village ; and the horses, tired with the long spell, 
stumbled every now and then against the stones on the rocky 
footpath. 

Arnold ordered a halt on the very bank of the river, to give 
the men and horses a short rest, for they were bound to reach 
Layton before morning. 

Whilst the horses were led into the swiftly flowing Delaware, 
the men lighted up a fire or two, and endeavoured to make 
themselves comfortable with a few kettles of tea. 

Arnold had chosen as his headquarters a huge red-oak, whose 
boughs were thick with withered foliage, and formed an 
impenetrable dome. A large fire leapt joyfully among the 
roots, which wrinkled the- ground with their bends and elbows. 
Seated around were the officers, warming their fingers, be- 
numbed by the keen cold blast. 

The new general kept the circle in a roar with his quaint sayings, 
or Arnold was celebrated for his wit and good humour, and 


130 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


now more than at any time he was bringing to bear the in- 
fluence of his brilliant exterior to gain the goodwill and esteem 
of his subordinates. Suddenly he remembered Ralph, whom 
he had forgotten for some time. 

Bring that young Frenchman here/’ said he. 

An instant afterwards our unhappy friend arrived, escorted by 
two soldiers. 

“ Now, my lad ” said Arnold, slightly raising his head, “the 
unlucky chance which has fallen to you happens every day in 
war. You carried a despatch ; you were arrested. There is 
nothing to be so grieved about in that ; you have done nothing 
to be ashamed of. You are well aware that I am not going to 
take you about with me indefinitely. At the first opportunity 
1 will send you to New York ; there you will stay till the end of 
the campaign. That may not be very long now, and then you 
can return to France, whence you should never have come. 
Besides, the despatch you bore was of no consequence, and your 
friend Mr. Washington is not at all concerned at not having 
received it.’’ 

Ralph remained silent. 

“ Look here, my lad/’ continued Arnold. “ What can it matter 
to you about all these Americans ? I will make you an offer ; 
tell me the two words which are omitted in the despatch, and 
on my honour I will set you free at once.” 

“ Through your fault, sir,” answered Ralph quietly, “ I have 
Iready broken my pledged word. You wrested from my hands 
the trust which ought never to have left me ; but nothing you can 
do or say will wrest from my lips the words which are hidden 
there. And besides, why should I consider that your word of 


AN EYE FOR AN EYE. 


131 

honour to-day is worth anything more than your word of honour 
yesterday ? 

Arnold changed colour at the insult, and rose. 

“Take care,” he said. “Yesterday you insulted me, but I 
took pity on your youth. How dare you presume to judge the 
conduct of a man like me ? Is it thus that you thank me for my 
kindness ? Do you not know that by martial law I ought to 
shoot you on the spot 

“I know it,” said Ralph coolly, “ and I am sorry that you.did 
not do so immediately ; for I assure you I would much rather 
die than betray those who have trusted to my word.” 

This time Arnold could not control his rage ; with hand raised 
he stepped towards the lad, when a noise was heard in the camp, 
and at the same time a soldier ran up, with the words, — 

“ An orderly from headquarters, general.” 

Arnold stopped. An instant afterwards a horseman rode up^ 
and, dismounting, advanced towards the general and gave him 
a letter. 

“ His Excellency General Clinton ordered me to let you have 
the enclosed without delay. I have been following you since 
the morning, and would perhaps have passed you only I caught 
sight of your bivouac fires.” 

Darkness was setting in. Arnold unfolded the despatch 
and with the light of a brand from the flames he read as 
follows : — 

“ I have to inform you without delay of the fate of your 
unfortunate friend and companion, Major Andrd. The morning 
after his arrest he was sentenced as a spy. He thereupon 
wrote me the following letter : — 


132 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


‘ Your Excellency is aware of the way in which I was made 
prisoner, of the gravity of my position, and of the fate which 
awaits me. I have obtained from Washington permission to 
write to you. I am anxious to efface from your mind the 
thought that you can in any way reproach yourself for my destiny, 
and that I was obliged by your orders to act as I did. In pene- 
trating the enemy’s lines and accepting a disguise, I acted 
contrary to your positive orders, and hence my position. As to 
the course I took, it was forced upon me by events. My mind 
is quite at ease, and I am resigned to my fate, whatever it may 
be. An honourable zeal for my king’s service has destroyed 
me. 

‘‘ In writing to your Excellency, the strength of the obligations 
which I have contracted towards you, and the profound grati- 
tude that I feel, recur to my mind. Accept my sincerest thanks 
for all the kindness you have shown towards me, and my fervent 
wishes for your future. I have a mother and two sisters, whom 
these recent events have ruined, and for whom my pay will be 
the sole amelioration of their lot. There is no necessity for me 
to say more — your Excellency’s goodness is well known.’ 

You know how much I esteemed Major Andre. I did all chat 
lay in my power to save him. My overtures were repulsed by 
the American general. I could not even obtain from him that 
my envoy should be shot like a soldier, instead of being hanged 
like a felon. In vain Andre wrote to Washington this last 
request, which I have heard through one of his friends, and which 
would have affected any soldier : — 

“ ‘ Supported against the fear of death by the feeling that no 


AN EVE FOR AN EYE, 


133 


unworthy action of mine has tarnished a life devoted to honour, 
I am confident that at this supreme hour your Excellency will 
not reject a request the fulfilment of which could in any way 
sweeten my last moments. With a soldier’s sympathy your 
Excellency will, I am sure, consent to modify the form of 
my punishment in accordance with the feelings of a man of 
honour. 

“ ^ Permit me to hope that if my character has inspired you with 
any esteem, and if I am in your eyes the victim of policy and 
not of vengeance, I shall recognize the influence of those feelings 
on your thoughts in learning that I am not to die on the 
gallows.’ 

“ This last prayer failed to change the stony heart of Washing- 
ton. On the day of execution Andre said to his servant, whose 
face was wet with tears, ‘ Leave me ; you will soon get over it if 
you have a little courage.’ 

“ He shaved himself, and put on a complete uniform, which he 
had had sent him from our camp. Then turning towards his 
guards, he said, ‘ Gentlemen, I am ready.’ 

“You see, my dear general, that the cruelty of our enemies did 
not prevent our friend from dying like a soldier. 

“ H. Clinton.” 

Trembling with emotion, Arnold had read Clinton’s letter 
aloud. All those present who had known and esteemed Major 
Andrd burst into tears at the story of the noble ending of a 
life by which he paid for a momentary error. 

Arnold alone did not weep, but his hand trembled violently ; 


134 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


and when he had finished the letter his face bent down in 
sorrow. 

The same instant he caught sight of Ralph, who, motionless 
between his guards, had witnessed all that passed. 

At the sight of the young Frenchman a flash of hate shot from 
Arnold’s eyes, and in a grating voice he exclaimed, — 

“You have heard what your friends have done to mine. 
Well, the same fate shall fall to you. Eye for eye, tooth for 
tooth.” 

“ I ask no other favour,” answered Ralph spiritedly. “But if 
it is not blasphemy to say so, I say that Heaven has been deceived, 
and that it has punished the innocent for the guilty. It is you 
who ought to have gone to the gallows, and not your accom- 
plice.” 

“ Ah ! you make game of me, do you ? ’’ said the renegade, 
whose voice was now almost inaudible in his rage ; and turning 
towards the soldiers, he added, — 

“ Halloa there ! fetch a rope, and let this French puppy 
swing.” 

A rope was soon brought ; a soldier climbed the tree and fixed 
one of its ends to a bough, while another looped the other end 
round the neck of the unfortunate Ralph. As he did so the tree 
shook so violently that the leaves fell in a shower on those 
beneath it. 

Arnold raised his head to discover the cause of this unusual 
fall, and then, said to his victim, “Are you ready?” 

“ If you can be as calm as 1 am before your death, you mise- 
rable traitor—” answered Ralph. 





“ Are you ready ? ” 


Page 134 








4 




AN EYE FOR AN EYE, 


135 


But he was not allowed to finish. At a sign from the 
American the cord tightened suddenly, and the body of the 
poor drummer-boy hung between earth and sky. 

Without waiting for the final convulsions, and as if to hurry 
from the frightful spectacle, Arnold gave the word to mount, and 
the troop resumed their route into the night. 




CHAPTER XIV. 


RED FOX. 


|RNOLD’S detachment had moved off, the clatter of 
the iron shoes of the horses on the stones of the 
footpath was getting fainter and fainter in the 
distance, and on the now deserted bank the 
bivouac fires were throwing out but a dying glow. 




vSupple and agile, it crawls along the bough. 


RED FOX. 


137 


And so it is finished ! Poor little drummer-lad ! All your 
fine dreams of glory, begun long ago in the far-off fields of 
Touraine, have only brought you to an ignominious death. 
Your corpse, swinging on the gallows in this desert valley, will 
not even have the honour of Christian burial, and will become 
the prey of the birds of the air. The traveller who has lost his 
way coming across your whitened skeleton, will flee from it in 
terror, thinking of some drama of the summary justice of the 
New World. 

Is it then the wind which again agitates the boughs of the 
old oak, and makes the leaves eddy down in a heavy shower 
around the corpse, which jerks again in the last struggles of 
a life cut off too early ? 

But no, it is not' the wind. A dark form appears among the 
foliage. It jumps so hastily on to the branch which has served 
as the gibbet that it bends, and the body swings at the end of 
the tightened cord. And now, supple and agile, it crawls along 
the bough ; it reaches the end, and the uncertain light from the 
fire at the foot of the tree barely discloses its outline. It is a 
man. 

Astride of the branch, he bends down over the body. A knife 
flashes in his hand, and the suddenly severed rope lets the body 
drop to the ground. 

Like a tiger on his prey the unknown has jumped after his 
victim, and now, stooping over the body, he slackens off the rope 
which is strangling the neck. That done he pats the chest ; he 
places his lips against those of Ralph, and then he rises, 
muttering, — 

« Too late ! " 


138 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


Slowly he picks a few twigs from among the roots, and throws 
a handful on the fire. Crackling, the fire springs up, and with 
its glad brilliancy lights up a strange picture. 

On the ground lies poor Ralph, his face contracted with pain 
and his eyes closed in death. Near him stands the unknown. 
He is a giant of athletic build, and wears a long leather cloak 
which shows his naked chest, and his legs clothed in embroidered 
moccasins. Two large bands of vermilion relieve the bronze 
shadows of his face, and give him a truly diabolical aspect ; 
while on his head nod three vulture plumes, rising from his black 
hair. 

At his belt, by the side of the bright blade which cut the rope, 
there hang a heavy tomahawk and a bag broidered all over 
with strange ornaments. The man, to such as knew the prairies 
and the American forests, was at once recognizable as a red- 
skin on the war-path. 

Thoughtfully he remained, looking at poor Ralph’s body. 
What strange feeling of pity was it that kept him by the side 
of one of the enemies of his race What could the death of 
this lad matter to him ? Was he not one of the accursed pale- 
faces who had come to trouble the repose of these solitudes and 
invade the hunting-grounds of his ancestors? 

At length he was about to go. For the last time he places 
his hand on the lad’s breast. But it would seem that the heart 
was beating ! The attentive Indian goes down on his knees. 
Most assuredly he has felt a short, feeble pulsation ! Maybe 
he is not too late ! 

In his powerful arms he catches up poor Ralph, and throws 
him over his shoulder. He does not even bend beneath the 


RED FOX, 


139 


burden, and with a light step he quits 
the fatal tree. He reaches the river, 
and without a pause he steps down into 
the water, which, rushing and foaming, 
rises to his waist. Arrived at the other 
bank he makes his way up the bank 
among the rocks and brushwood, and 
reaching the plain, he hastens towards 
the forest whose sombre rampart girdles the horizon. 

A feeble light glimmex's in the wood. It is towards it that he 
advances. There, just on the outskirt, among a few felled trees, 
is hidden a humble hut of roughly-squared trunks, the home of 
some intrepid pioneer. 

The Indian has reached it, and with closed fist he knocks at 
the badly jointed planks of the heavy door. 

“David Michaux, open quickly; it is I.” 

Some one doubtless recognized his voice, for immediately the 
door swung back, and there appeared a man with locks of 
snow, a long white beard encircling his face and giving it a look of 
considerable austerity. He was no Indian, but a paleface, and 
in spite of his white hair everything about him told of strength 
and energy. In a firm grasp he still held the gun which he had 
taken up. at the first sound. 

“It is you. Red Fox !” said he to the Indian. “ I thought 
you were already far away from here. What is it brings you 
back so quickly ? ” 

“ The Great Spirit has guided my footsteps,” answered the 
redskin. “ Perhaps it is your son whom I have brought back 
to you.” 



140 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“ My son ! ” exclaimed the old man in a quivering voice ; and 
he stepped aside “^o allow the Indian to pass. And Red Fox 
entered the hut, and placed Ralph’s body on a bed covered with 
furs. 

David stepped up to the couch, and took a long look at the 
lad’s face. 

“ Is it Pierre ? ” asked a young girl, who, standing near the 
fire with her hands joined in silent prayer, had followed all that 
had passed. 

“ No, Eva, it is not Pierre come back,” said the old man 
sorrowfully. “ Heaven has taken him away for ever, and will 
not give him back to us.” 

“If that lad is not your son, David, he is at least your 
brother,” said Red Fox, “for he is a Frenchman. But words 
will not bring him back to life ; we must look after him quickly 
if you do not wish him to die this time.’’ 

Again David approached the bed. In his rough hands he 
took the lad’s delicate wrist. Beneath his finger the pulse was 
beating fitfully and violently. 

“ Eva,” said he, “ give me the cordial. This boy is in a fever ; 
he only wants sleep.” 

Taking the bottle which his daughter held out to him, he 
gently opened Ralph’s mouth and poured some of the liquor 
down his throat. The lad heaved a sigh and tried to rise, but 
fell back heavily on his couch. It was of little consequence, for 
the joltings received by him in the rapid journey made by Red 
Fox to the hut had been of more use than the skilled rubbings 
of a physician. The cordial of the pioneer seemed to complete 
the salutary effect of this agitation. The blood now circulated 


RED FOX, 


141 

in the veins with more freedom, the compressed wind-pipe 
opened, the breathing became quite regular. 

“ He is going to sleep,” said David, who stretched over the 
lad a warm buffalo-skin. 

“Oh ! father,” said Eva, “may Heaven give back the poor 
lad’s life during his sleep ! He is a Frenchman as good Red 
Fox has said ; he is our brother.” 

“ But tell us how you found the unhappy fellow, and how yoj 
managed to save him,” said David to the Indian, 

“When I left you this evening,” answered Red Fox, “ I went 
down to the river and crossed it. The sun was already behind 
the Alleghanies, and I was walking on with no suspicion of 
danger, when all of a sudden I saw a troop of cavalry appear 
on the top of the bank in front of me. Around me the bare 
earth offered no cover, and not knowing whether the soldiers were 
friends or foes, I quickly climbed up into the old oak which 
marks the ford, and I lay out along one of the boughs. 
The reddened leaves still left by the autumn breezes 
hid me from all eyes. I had scarcely got into my hiding- 
place than the horsemen were near, I was wise ; they were the 
English. But instead of crossing the river, they stopped to rest 
and water their horses. They lighted their fires. I thought at 
first they were going to remain there all night, but I saw they 
did not pitch their tents, and so I felt quite at ease. The pale- 
faces hide themselves from the look of the moon when they 
sleep. The chiefs sat themselves down at the foot of the oak, 
and I heard them talking of a plan to surprise and pillage 
Layton this very night. One of them at last had this lad, whom 
he had made prisoner, brought up to them ; after questioning 


142 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


him, and calling him a French puppy, the chief ordered him to 
be killed. His people seized the boy, and hanged him with a 
rope on one of the branches of the oak.” 

Oh ! how dreadful ! ” exclaimed Eva, clasping her hands in 
pity. 

^ The scoundrels !” said David ; “a mere child too.’’ 

»■ 

‘‘Once the deed was done,” continued Red Fox, “the English 
mounted and rode off. Then I got down, undid the rope, and 
brought him here.” 

“ You did well,” said the old man. “ Had the lad been an 
Englishman, we should have pity on him j but better, he is a 
Frenchman !” 

“ Now, good-bye,” said Red Fox. “ Before the new moon I 
must rejoin Saskatcha, the great chief. You will soon hear the 
war-cry of the Hurons and the Saulteux, and I promise to 
decorate the door of your hut with as many English scalps as 
will cover it.” 

“Adieu, Red Fox,” said David. “ When you return, the lad 
you have saved will thank you himself.” 

The Indian wrapped his mantle around him, and glided out 
of the hut. 




CHAPTER XV. 
ACADIA. 


|OTWITHSTANDING the cordial given by the 
pioneer, Ralph’s fever, instead of abating, became 
on the following day seriously aggravated. The 
constant succession of mishaps since he left 
Newport, had at length mastered his indomitable energy. At- 
tacked with furious delirium, all his thoughts and terrors 




The village of Grand PrA 



144 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


recurred to him : the night in the woods, at a few paces from 
the English vedettes, the passage of the icy waters of the 
Hudson, the sacred trust stolen from him by the traitor, and 
the final drama — the agony of the gallows. 

The brave David and his charming daughter contemplated 
in sadness the grievous spectacle of this unconscious strife, to 
which they could offer no amelioration. For long days and 
nights they lavished their tenderest cares on the poor invalid, 
expecting every minute to hear his last sigh. At nights they 
took turns in watching by his bedside, bathing his forehead 
with linen rags soaked in icy water, and so soothing the throb- 
bings of his fevered brain. 

At length the fits of delirium became rarer, and slowly left 
him altogether. Hope returned to the good people, and David 
resumed his work, leaving his daughter in charge of the con- 
valescent. 

The day came when Ralph awoke from his long syncope. 
When he opened his eyes he still seemed to be dreaming ; but 
this time the dream which dawned on his sight was a pleasant 
although a strange one. 

He saw himself stretched on a bed covered with furs, in a 
huge apartment, into which the sun was shining, and making 
the motes dance in its beam as it poured its light through the 
glazed window. Around him the walls, formed of trunks of 
trees ingeniously fitted together, were draped with green mosses, 
stopping up every chink between them. A table and a few 
chairs formed the rustic furniture of the room. At the end of 
it stood a chimney hearth with a deep mantel. On the 
hearth a kettle, hung from a strong pot-chain, sang cheerily over 


ACADIA. 


145 


the fire. One side of the room was formed by a board partition, 
and by a half-open door he saw another room, quite lit up by 
the sun, which reminded him confusedly of his room at La 
Charmoise, with the muslin curtains hanging from the windows, 
and his little bed draped with chintz. 

But all this, strange as it was, was nothing to the angelic 
apparition from off which Ralph could not take his eyes. A few 
yards away from him, and close to the window, sat a young 
girl. The perfect oval o" her face, framed in the tresses of long, 
fair hair, which fell on to her shoulders, was outlined on the 
glass like the head of a Madonna in a luminous aureola. 
Bending over her work, she was embroidering with her white 
and delicate hands a leather bag, already covered with charm- 
ing arabesques ; softly, in a gentle voice, she was singing an 
old song, which fell on the lad’s ears 
like an echo from his native land. 

Suddenly the apparition raised its head, 
and seeing Ralph’s gaze fixed on it, gave 
a little scream, and quitting its work 
gently came up to his bed. 

“ I am so, so sorry I woke you.” 

“ Oh ! mademoiselle,” answered the 
lad, “ am I really awake } Speak to me 
again, for it seems I must be dreaming.” 

“ No,” said the maiden, with a smile. 
“You are not dreaming; and grand- 
father told me this morning that he now thought you were 
safe.” 

“ But where am I ? ” 



146 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“You are with poor people, but with friends" 

“ How did 1 come here ? " 

“A friend of my grandfather’s, a Huron, named Red Fox, 
brought you here, after having cut you down from a tree, where 
those wicked English had hanged you.” 

“ Ah ! I remember,” said Ralph. “ That scoundrel Arnold 
had revenged on me the death of his accomplice.” 

In uttering these words the boy’s brows contracted, and his 
eyes glowed so, that the girl was frightened at her imprudence. 

“ I was wrong to talk to you about that now,” she said. “ My 
grandfather told me not to do so ; and if when he comes back 
he finds you feverish, he will see that I have disobeyed him, 
and he will scold me. You would not like me to get into trouble, 
would you ? ” 

“ Oh ! no mademoiselle,” said Ralph warmly ; “ for I am sure 
it is to you more than to the good Huron, that I owe my life.” 

“ Well, in that case,” replied Eva, “ you had better 
drink this ; I made it for you. And don’t say a word more 
until papa comes back ” 

Ralph smiled, and drank off the draught which was held out 
to him. 

“ I obey the orders, and I will say no more ; but I am so 
happy at living, that I do not care to go to sleep.” 

However, in spite of his efforts, sleep soon fell on the con- 
valescent, but this time the sleep was calm and restorative. 

When Ralph reopened his eyes, he saw his friend Eva, and 
by her side, David Michaux. The vigorous old man had re- 
turned from the forest, and still carried the heavy axe with 
which he had been felling one of the giant trees. He gaily 


ACADIA : 


147 


saluted the lad, and in a few words explained to him how he 
had been saved and brought to his home by Red Fox. 

“ My granddaughter’s care has done the rest,” said he, in 
conclusion. “A little more quiet and you will be able to 
rejoin your friends.” 

“Thank you, sir,” answered Ralph. “But I must not abuse 
your hospitality. Your house is small, and my presence must 
inconvenience you.” 

“Not at all,” replied David quickly. “You have not incon- 
venienced us in the least. The girl has her own room ; and as 
for me, the bed I prefer is a few buffalo skins spread before the 
fire.” 

“ You are very good,” continued Ralph ; “ but I must leave 
you as soon as 1 can. If you have saved my life, it remains for 
me to save my honour, which was stolen from me by that 
traitor Arnold. I feel that my strength has come back to 
me, and I want to regain General Wash- 
ington’s army without delay.” 

And rising suddenly the lad jumped 
out of bed, but scarcely had he touched 
the ground when his legs gave way, and 
he would have fallen had not David caught 
him in his arms. 

Eva screamed with alarm, 

“ What madness ! ” said the old man, 
putting him back into bed. “ What are 
you thinking of To walk off, when you 
will hardly be able to stand on your legs 
for two or three weeks yet ! ” 




148 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“ Then I am lost ! ” cried the lad, hiding his face in his hands, 
while his tears fell furiously. 

“ I do not know what it is that impels you to leave us,” said 
David, softened ; “ but it is impossible for you to go. If you 
were able to travel even, you could not leave the house. The 
English are fighting all along the Delaware, and at the first 
step you would be retaken. Keep quiet then, regain your 
strength, and then I give you my word I will guide you where 
you want to go. A fortnight is not so very long, when you have 
returned from a journey like yours.” 

Eva added her prayers to the blunt advice of her grandfather, 
and Ralph promised not to renew his attempt, but to wait 
quietly, if not patiently, until he could get away. 

However, his strength was longer returning to him than he 
thought, and if at the end of a fortnight he could leave his 
bed, he was only able to cross the room with feeble steps, and 
supported by David. Coming out of the door, the fresh air 
and the sun seemed to stun him, and he was only too glad to 
sink on to the seat of a block of wood covered with otter skins, 
which had been improvised for the occasion. 

And thus passed many days. After having helped his patient 
into the open air, David would take his axe and be off to the 
forest, leaving Eva to sit by him and amuse him with her 
cheerful conversation. 

Touched by her sisterly kindness, Ralph disclosed to her his 
secret — he told her all his history, his misfortunes, and his 
shattered hopes. 

“ How you must regret your lovely Touraine ! ” said Eva, 
much moved at the narrative. “ Believe me, soon your troubles 


ACADIA. 


149 


will be at an end, and you will go back to your beloved 
country,” 

“ But you yourself, would not you like to go back to 
France ?” 

“ I do not know France at all,’’ said Eva ; “and it is a long 
way off, for poor people like us. All I ask is that we may be 
allowed to go back to the country of our fathers.’’ 

“Are you not French, then — ^your grandfather, and your- 
self.?” asked Ralph, with astonishment. 

“ No, we are not French of the old France ; we are Cana- 
dians.” 

“ Canadians ! ’’ repeated the lad. 

“ I see you do not know anything about us,” continued Eva. 
“Alas ! our history is as sad as yours. Never were people in 
the world tried more cruelly than our poor nation. Two hundred 
years ago our ancestors, peasants of Saintonge, Normandy, 
and Brittany, came over in ships to the' New World, to that 
lovely country through which flows the St. Lawrence. They tilled 
the land and founded their villages, and called one part of the new 
country Acadia, but their hearts remained faithful to France. 
However, the day came when, without consulting them in the 
least, the King of France abandoned them, and gave them over, 
their lands and themselves, to the English. A few revolted, and 
fled, to carry on a war, but the wiser ones submitted for 
the sake of their families and possessions, and in the hope that 
the day would come when their brothers in France would rescue 
them from the yoke of the oppressors. Our family was one of 
these. 

“My grandfather, then quite young (it is fifty years since 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


150 

then) lived with his relations in the village of Grand Pr^. It is 
said that this village was one of the loveliest and richest in 
Acadia. Its houses with their tiled roofs and ivied gables 
grouped picturesquely around its pretty church with its light 
wooden steeple ; and the green pastures covered with cattle 
stretched far and wide to the river banks. My grand- 
father will tell you how lovely and happy it all was. In the 
evening, at the sound of the horn, the cows would slowly come 
back to their dairies, filling the air with the joyful tinkling of 
their bells, while the labourers would come in from all the places 
round, mounted on horses, and with the ploughs or harrows. 

“ It was an earthly paradise, peopled with good and honest 
men and women ; crime or theft was never heard of, and the 
village had no other tribunal than that of the old men and the 
cur^. I told you that my grandfather was then young. He 
lived with his friends, and, just married, he had only one son, my 
father. There was not in Grand Prd a more respected family 
than that of my ancestors. 

“ One evening my grandfather, after a hard day’s work, was 
resting before the fire while the old folks were amusing them- 
selves with the first steps of the child, and the wife was at work 
dress-making. Suddenly the door opened, and a neighbour, 
Basil the blacksmith, rushed in, exclaiming in an angry voice, — 

“‘David! Have you not heard the news? The Pnglish 
fleet has just anchored in the Bassin des Mines, and the 
commandant has ordered all the men of Grand Pre to muster 
to-morrow in the church, at noon, to hear the orders of the 
king.’ 

“ ‘Well, what do you want me to do?’ answered my grand- 


ACADIA. 


151 

father good-humouredly. ‘We need not go near the red- 
coats.’ 

“ ‘ Do you not think then that the English have some scheme 
afloat ? They have not forgotten Louisbourg, Beausejour, and 
Port Royal, where our troops had the best of it. They have 
already taken away our arms. Heaven knows what they are 
now brewing against us ! ’ 

“ ‘ We are peaceable subjects,’ answered my grandfather. 
‘ The English have disarmed us. What else can they do ’ 

“ Basil went off. On the morrow all the able-bodied men 
appeared at the church, as had been ordered. 

“ Soon the soldiers arrived, who surrounded the building, 
while their commandant entered and read to the assembly a 
proclamation, which said, — 

Inhabitants of Grand Pre, the king my master has brought 
you together here to receive my orders. Notwithstanding your 
former rebellion, he has treated you with clemency and con- 
sideration, and now, disregarding his generosity, you are 
conspiring against him. The day of his anger has now come. 
From henceforth your lands, your houses, and your cattle 
revert to the crown, which is your legitimate master ; as for you, 
with your wives and children you will be transported in our 
ships to foreign countries, where you may become good and 
loyal subjects. I declare you therefore my prisoners, for such 
is the will of his Majesty.’ 

“ On hearing these terrible words the poor peasants remained 
for a few seconds stupefied and silent. Then, as if seized by 
panic they ran to the doors ; but the soldiers were waiting for 
them with fixed bayonets. Then there rose from the crowd a 


152 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


wild cry of rage and fury. Some of them in thei madness ran 
on to the soldiers, and fell, reddening with their blood the sacred 
precinct. And then the cure threw himself between the crowd 
and the soldiers, and shouted to his flock, ‘ What ! Would you 
profane the house of the Lord with a useless sanguinary strife ? 
Look at the altar, and remember the sacred words, “ Father, 
forgive them ; for they know not what they do 

“ The good priest fell on his knees and began to pray, and 
he was soon followed by the crowd. The prayer finished, 
the unfortunate Acadians came out of the church, and, 
escorted by the soldiers, returned to their homes, where they 
were permitted to collect a few things, and then, for ever, they 
left their beautiful village. 

The night had fallen when they reached the sea-shore, and 
by the commandant’s order they had to encamp without any 
shelter. Long was the first night spent by the exiles away 
from their homes — some, resigned to their fate, passed the time 
in prayer, while others filled the air with their lamentations. 
David Michaux, my grandfather, watched over his father bent 
down with age, over his mother half mad with grief, and over his 
unfortunate wife and her infant child. In vain he tried to keep 
up their courage ; his consolations could not rescue them from 
their despondency. 

“ Towards morning an immense glare spread over the horizon. 
At first they thought it was the sun ; but soon, above Grand Prd 
there rose huge columns of smoke. It was the village which, 
was in flames, lit by the soldiers of the King of England. The 
cattle fled from the flames, hurrying across the country, and 
echoing their plaintive bello wings. It was a terrible scene. 


ACADIA, 


153 


“Understanding at last the full extent of their misfortune, the 
exiles gave way to despair. The younger people rushed 
on the bayonets of the soldiers, while the women and 
aged men threw themselves, a prey to madness, on the ground. 
My great grandfather died in the arms of David Michaux, who, 
broken-hearted, had to bury him a few minutes afterwards in 
the wet sand of the beach. 

“ But the signal was given. The English soldiers drove the 
survivors on to the boats, which took them to the ships. David 
Michaux and his people were landed at Philadelphia, where 
they suffered the extremest misery. My grandfather started in 
Virginia, near to Yorktown, as a wood-cutter. 

*‘The years went by. My father, grown a stalwart man, 
married a young Acadian, exiled as he had been ; and a few 
years after their marriage they had two children, my brother 
Pierre and myself. Their work prospered, they were happy, 
when misfortune again returned to them. My father was 
crushed by the fall of a tree, my mother died a short time 
afterwards, and was soon followed by my grandmother. David 
Michaux remained alone with two tiny children. Sorrowfully 
he left the country and came here, and took up his abode in 
this desert corner of the Delaware. Here I have grown, free 
from care and very happy, under the protection of my grand- 
father. But again the fatal destiny which seems to pursue our 
family is now hanging over us. My brother, until he became a 
tall stalwart youth of eighteen, helped my grandfather. During 
the fine weather he worked in the forest, during the winter he 
looked after the otter and marten traps. At last, as grand- 
father did not care to leave his solitude, Pierre went to Layton, 


154 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


to sell the furs, or to negotiate with the merchants for the wood 
we sent them down the Delaware. Last year, when the war had 
begun, he went away, and has never come back. A Layton 
merchant who came here told us that the English had enticed 
Pierre into a hut, made him drunk, and during his intoxication 
had enlisted him into the king’s army. Since then we have 
had no news of him. Poor Pierre ! ” 

And Eva burst into tears. 

Ralph, deeply touched by the sight and the sad story, 
could only murmur, — 

“ Poor Acadians ! Poor Eva ! ” 




CHAPTER XVI. 

THE NIGHT LA FORTUNE WAS ON GUARD. 

HE night had been cold. A dull grey fog had 
stretched over the plain beneath the pale bright- 
ness of the dawn, and thrown its mantle of hoar- 
frost over the trees and shrubs. The sentinels 
posted as vedettes stamped the hard earth with their feet, and 
from time to time threw looks of envy at the bivouac fires which 




“There I was, face to face with a savage !” 



THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


156 

shone below them with their fitful rays glancing on to the 
white tents of the French camp. A few soldiers, coming out 
from their frail canvas shelter, grouped themselves around one 
of their fires and warmed their chilled fingers at the flames. 
The soldiers wore the blue and white uniform of the Royal 
Auvergne. As they warmed themselves they talked to each 
other quietly, however, for they had to be careful not to wake 
their sleeping comrades. 

•*Brr! What a night, my boys !” said a great, tall fellow, 
stretching his immensely long arms in front of the fire ; what 
a night ! I believe it is colder in this wretched country than in 
the coldest corner of the Vosges, where we camped in the 
famous winter of 1768.” 

“ That is making too much of it,” replied one of the soldiers ; 
“ it is rather cold — that is all.” 

“ I tell you what it is,” said another, “our friend La Fortune 
is so big that he gets twice as much of the cold as anybody 
else. If I were only to put my hand as high as his head, I 
should catch the rheumatics.” 

“ Laugh on, you fellows,” replied La Fortune. “ I should like 
to see you pass the night, as I have done, at the outposts with- 
out a fire, out there in the fog, and seated on the frozen ground. 
But 1 would not have missed the guard to-night for something, 
for I met with the most extraordinary adventure that has ever 
happened to me.” 

“ What was that ? ” asked the soldiers eagerly. 

“Well,” continued the sergeant, “you know that Baron de 
TEstrade gave orders for the advanced posts to be more than 
ordinarily vigilant, for just now they don’t know where the 



Face to face with a savage 


Page 157 


















■ 


V 

I 


r 


THE NIGHT LA FORTUNE WAS ON GUARD. 157 


English are, and we might, without knowing it, find ourselves in 
their neighbourhood. After placing my men, I myself went 
the rounds during the night ; and it was well that I did so, for 
in about two hours’ time I found one of the sentries, a recruit 
from Montrichard, sound asleep and half frozen to death. 
While I was rousing him.I seemed to see something move in 
the shadow, about twenty paces away. I shouted, ‘ Who goes 
there?’ and as the something continued to move I was going 
to fire, when I heard a voice answer in good French ‘A 
friend!’ ‘ Advance, friend I ’ said I, and I was preparing to 
give him a warm reception if he had been an enemy, for I am 
up to all the old war dodges. The individual advanced, and in 
the twilight I just made out his figure. You can believe me or 
not, as you like, but I nearly dropped the musket, for there ! 
was face to face with a savage.’’ 

“ What ! a savage ! ” exclaimed his excited auditors, for the 
French had often heard of the Indians, but had never seen one 
since they had arrived in America. 

“Yes, a savage,” continued La Fortune, “and a real one — 
figure quite black, plumes on his head, a huge mantle— in fact 
what they call a redskin, doubtless because they border their 
noses with streaks of vermillion. We looked at each other 
like crockery pugs, and then my savage observed, ‘ The Huron 
is the friend of his brothers of France. Lead me to your chief! 
At the moment I thought I should have sunk into the earth, 
wondering whether it was I who understood the savage tongue, 
or he who understood French. But my friend continued, 
‘ Be quick ! take me to him, or let me pass, for day will soon 
be here, and I must see your chief.’” 


158 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“The savage spoke French?” asked the soldiers, held 
breathless by La Fortune’s artful pauses. 

“ Like you and me — perhaps better,” said the sergeant sen- 
tentiously. “Then I answered him, ‘ Mr, Huron, you know well 
enough people must not bother the colonel at this time of night ; 
besides, I cannot leave my post, and neither can I let you go 
alone into the camp.’ The savage said no more, but crouched 
down on his haunches, and remained stock still like a post. 
An hour afterwards the relieving guard arrived. We came back 
to camp ; I brought the savage with us, and as soon as I arrived 
I took him to Captain Sireuil. When I had reported the 
matter to the captain, and explained that I had kept guard over 
the savage for an hour, he called me an ass, and got rid of 
me without further ceremony, while he was as polite as possible 
to the Indian. I almost regret I did not shoot the nigger. 
But still you must admit it was an odd adventure.” 

“ What a muff you were ! ” said one of the bystanders. “ Did 
you not see that he was no more a savage than you are ? It 
was some messenger in disguise from the American camp, or 
some spy.” 

“ That was it,” said the other soldiers in chorus. “ La Rarnde 
is right ; La Fortune has been taken in by a spy.” 

“ La Ramde says he was a spy ! ” retorted the recruiter, vexed 
at the intervention of the drum-major. “ He ought to know, for 
he had a good deal of experience with the little Tourangean, 
who stepped it with the marshal’s despatches.” 

“ Enough of that,” said La Ram^e, walking up to the ser- 
geant. “You know I have forbidden you ever to mention Ralph 
Hai^dry’s name in my presence ; so have done with it.” 


THE NIGHT LA FORTUNE WAS ON GUARD. 159 


“Hallo ! ’^ answered La Fortune, drawing himself up, “do 
you take me for one of your drummer-boys, that you favour 
me with your orders ? ” 

Evidently a row was threatening, but just then a young 
officer arrived, inquiring, — 

“ La Ramee ! where is La Ramee ?” 

“Here, sir,” said the drum-major, stepping forward. 

“Well, my lad, have out your drummers at once to rouse the 
men, and beat the assembly. Colonel’s orders.” 

La Ramde hurried off, while the soldiers, who had heard the 
command, rapidly regained their tents. 

A few seconds afterwards the dull roll of the drums rang 
through the camp. The men appeared from the tents, musket 
in hand, knapsack on back, and soon the companies were 
formed waiting the order to march. 

The sun rose, feebly piercing the mist with his ashy rays, 
and the Royal Auvergne moved off, leaving the camp in charge 
of a detachment only. 

At the head of the column rode the Baron de I’Estrade, con- 
versing with the famous Indian, who marched by his side. 

“How did you know you would find the French here?” 
asked the colonel; “my column only came into these parts a 
few days ago.” 

“ My warriors have been fighting here for a week or more,” 
said the Huron, “ and from them I knew where you were.” 

“Are you sure, Red Fox,” continued the colonel, “that 
Arnold himself is on the Delaware ? ” 

“My eyes have not deceived me, for I have already seen 
the traitor and recognized him,” said the Indian gravely. “ At 


i6o 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


the skirt of the forest, on the other side of the river, one of my 
friends, a brother, has built his wigwam. There I always find 
a shelter when my paths bring me into this country. After as- 
sembling my warriors, who accompanied the son of Saskatcha, 
I followed the Delaware, to meet the Americans on the Hudson. 
I passed near my friend’s, and I would have seen him ; but afar 
off I saw the redcoats surrounding the hut. Then I sent on 
my warriors, and I hid them in the forest, in the black shadows 
of the pine-trees. Then alone I crept like a serpent from bush to 
bush. I approached the hut, so near that I could hear the Eng- 
lish speak to one another. I thought at first that they had killed 
my old friend, but soon I saw him come out of his cabin. Near 
him walked a great chief, and looking at him I saw that it was 
Arnold. Then I returned to my men, and I was going to fall 
on the English, when my spies warned me that the French were 
coming to the Delaware. I put off the attack and came to seek 
you, thinking that together we could fight the English, and 
leave not one alive.” 

“ You did well,” said the colonel. 

After a three hours’ march they neared the river. The colonel 
halted his men and, accompanied by Captain Sireuil and the 
Indian guide, advanced to reconnoitre the enemy’s position. 

Concealed by the underwood which covered the plain, they 
gained the edge of the escarpment, at the foot of which rolled 
the Delaware. On the opposite slope were pitched the English 
tents, halfway between the river and the forest. Aloft, above 
the roof of David Michaux’s hut, floated the English flag. On 
the bank of the river were a few picquets of cavalry guarding 


THE NIGHT LA FORTUNE WAS ON GUARD. i6i 


the passage. The position was naturally strong, and Arnold 
had made the most of its advantages. 

Baron de I’Estrade, with his eyes fixed on the English camp, 
was deep in thought. 

At last he said, “ Is there another point at which we can 
pass the Delaware } ” 

“You have understood my thoughts, and I have understood 
yours,” gravely answered Red Fox. “My warriors are below 
among the trees, awaiting the signal ; they are ready to fight 
alone, but they have few muskets, and it would be better for 
you to send with them a couple of hundred men, whom I will 
lead by a safe road.” 

“ That is it,” said the colonel. “ Captain Sireuil will take a 
detachment with you, and he will open fire on the English. 
When the action begins, I will cross the Delaware and attack 
the enemy in front, while you keep him occupied in the 
rear. Come, lose no time, if you wish to sleep to-night in your 
friend’s hut.” 



CHAPTER XVII. 


I 



THE FIGHT ON THE DELAWARE. 

RNOLD to gratify his vengeance had borne the 
blazing torch across Pennsylvania. He had even 
advanced into Virginia, continuing his work of ^ 
devastation, sacking the patriots’ plantations, «] 

and freeing their slaves. At one time he threatened Mount 4 

Vernon, Washington’s estate, but an order from Clinton stopped ] 




THE FIGHT ON THE DELAWARE, 


163 

him. It was repugnant to the feelings of that brave general 
that he should appear as in any way encouraging a scheme of 
personal vengeance. 

Arnold was ordered to ascend the Delaware with his detach- 
ment, and hold himself ready to advance on New York, 
which was on the line of route of the Franco- Americans, should 
they attempt to reach Philadelphia by land. 

Checking his plunderings for a while, the renegade had' 
obeyed. Leisurely he had reascended the Delaware’s right 
bank, and had stopped near the ford by the old oak to await 
Clinton’s further instructions. 

Great had been the terror of those in the hut of David 
Michaux, when one morning they saw the redcoats appear in 
the valley ; particularly Ralph, who had at last recovered from his 
attacks, and having regained his strength was preparing to 
depart. 

That very day the old woodman was to have set him on 
the road to Peekskill, whence he imagined he could easily 
get to West Point without danger. The arrival of the English 
deranged all his plans. More than anything it was of impor- 
tance that he should not again fall into the hands of his 
terrible enemy. , Arnold himself was seen coming towards the 
cabin, and was about to enter, when David, cutting short his 
indecision, dragged the young Frenchman into a shed at the 
back of the house, and there made him hide himself. He had 
scarcely done this when the traitor came in. 

Chance alone prevented Arnold from walking into the shed 
where the drummer of the Royal Auvergne lay concealed. 
Having looked round the house, he decided to make it his 


THE DRUMMER-BOY 


164 

headquarters, and with great politeness he asked David to let 
him have one of the rooms for this purpose. 

Although poor Eva was much troubled lest Ralph should 
be discovered, she herself brought him his food while his 
detention lasted. She it was also who prevailed on the lad not 
to leave his hiding-place and attempt to escape, for the sol- 
diers round the house were very numerous. As the English 
had announced their departure on an early date, it was hoped 
that they would clear off without discovering Ralph. 

Arnold was not anticipating any attack ; the reports to hand 
from New York said nothing as to any movement of the enemy 
in these parts. Like a true soldier, however, he had taken up 
his position with great care. Not only had he thrown his out- 
posts along the banks of the river, but he had advanced his 
cordon of vedettes for some distance into the forest, though it 
was scarcely probable that an attack would be delivered from 
that quarter. In addition he had constructed an abattis ot 
trees round David’s hut, to serve as a fairly fortified centre in 
case of surprise. 

For a fortnight he had been here impatiently awaiting new 
instructions from Clinton, when towards noon on the day that 
we saw the French guided by Red Fox the report of fire-arms 
was heard in the woods at the back of David’s cottage. 

Arnold, who was sitting in his room, rushed outside. At the 
same moment the terrible war-whoop of the Indians rang in 
his ears ; but the shout, instead of alarming him, appeared to 
reassure him, for he paused and said to the officers who were 
running up, — 

“ They are only Indians. I thought at first they were the 


THE FIGHT ON THE DELA WARE. 


165 

Congress dogs. It doesn’t matter, gentlemen; just clear off the 
vermin, and give them no quarter.” 

In the twinkling of an eye the alert was sounded. The 
companies were formed, and departed at the double towards 
the wood, on the skirts of which beyond the driven-in outposts 
there now appeared the line of warriors shouting their terrific 
whoop, and showering their arrows on to the entrenchment. 

The English fusilade now seemed to damp the ardour of the 
savages ; their shouting grew fainter, and as if to avoid the bul- 
lets they appeared to sink into the ground among the bushes. 
Then, to the bewilderment of the English, there appeared in 
the place where the Indians had disappeared a long line of 
grenadiers in blue and white, who, giving a volley with their 
muskets, came on down the hill with their bayonets at the 
charge. 

“The French!” shouted the English, and at the first mo- 
ment of surprise they gave way and were retreating towards 
the hut, when Arnold stopped them. 

“What! Turning tail before a handful of Frenchmen and 
Indians ! ’’ he exclaimed. “ Cornishmen and Inniskillingers, 
do you forget that you are the best soldiers in the world and 
that a hundred times and more, in Canada, you have driven the 
French before you ?” 

And with his sword drawn, he sprang to the front and brought 
on the men with such impetuosity that it was now the French- 
men’s turn to retire. 

These in their backward movement found themselves among 
the Indians, and such disorder followed that the English easily 
dispersed the foremost ranks. In vain Captain Sireuil threw 


i66 


THE DRUMMER-BOW 


himself into the niUee^ and tried to rally his men and get them 
off into the wood, so as to reform their lines. The English 
brought up all their forces to crush them. The fight seemed 
lost. 

Arnold was already exulting over his victory, when he was 
startled by a terrible fusilade behind him, and saw that the 
detachment under Baron de I’Estrade had driven off the guard 
at the ford and passed the river. 

At the first glance the traitor saw the greatness of his danger. 
Hastily he collected a few companies who were near him, and 
led them against the new enemy. 

The Royal Auvergne, having reformed their lines on the 
right bank of the river, were now advancing up the hill, the 
drummers, led by La Ramde, beating the charge. 

Arnold’s troops, coming down at the run, rushed right into 
the French line, but did not stop their 
march, and driven back by the bayonets 
the English staggered and broke. 

Arnold, seeing himself almost sur- 
rounded, gave the signal for retreat, and 
leaping on to a dragoon’s horse hur- 
riedly took flight. 

Baron de I’Estrade, scorning to pursue 
his conquered foe, continued his march 
towards the woodman’s hut, which had 
become the last centre of resistance. 

There the English, behind their abattis, 
held in check the infantry under Captain 
Sireuil and the savages under Red Fox. 



THE FIGHT ON THE DELA WARE. 


167 


Soon the corps under the colonel reached the crest of the 
plateau, effected its junction with the Franco- Indian detach- 
ment, and thus completely surrounded the remainder of Arnold’s 
troops. 

In vain the baron ordered the firing to cease for a minute 
while he shouted to the English to surrender. 

The only reply was a furious volley, and immediately the 
battle recommenced. It was now an obstinate, sanguinary 
hand-to-hand struggle. Soon there was a frightful medley of 
red coats and white ones, among which, leaping about like 
tigers, were the plumed Huron warriors under Saskatcha and 
Red Fox. 

Here and there a gun was discharged, but the foes wasted 
no time in reloading their muskets, but clubbed them and 
fought with their side-arms. 

Slowly the unfortunate English, crushed by the numbers, were 
struck down or captured. A handful only, driven back into 
the hut, continued the desperate defence. 

What was Ralph doing during all this ? At the first sound 
of the muskets he had rushed to the door of the shed, but as 
he was opening it to come out, David appeared and advised 
him to remain where he was until he knew the result of the 
battle. 

The lad obeyed, and through the chinks in the wall had 
followed the vicissitudes of the encounter. Close to him at 
the back of the house he had seen the soldiers of Arnold 
hold the Indians in check. Then he had witnessed the 
appearance of the well-beloved blue and white uniforms of 
his companions in arms, and with fluttering heart he had 


i68 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


waited for a favourable moment to throw himself before them. 
But the fight continued without the English leaving their 
post. David did not return. How was he to get out 1 

All at once Ralph remembered that the shed in which he was 
hiding communicated by a narrow door with the interior of the 
hut. It was through this door that the wood for keeping up the 
fire was taken into the sitting-room, and the opening was now 
blocked up with faggots which David had accumulated for his 
winter supply. 

To clear away the faggot pile and open a passage was for 
Ralph but the work of a few minutes. Advancing cautiously, he 
found himself in the angle of the large room, where he had lain 
so long while he was a prey to the fever. 

At first he was half suffocated by the smoke which filled the 
room. About a dozen English soldiers posted near the 
window were loading and firing their muskets unceasingly. 
Having only eyes for their assailants, they took no notice of the 
entrance of the lad, who, stooping down in the angle of the 
room, was undecided what to do, and never moved. He had 
expected to find David and Eva. What had become of them ? 

A bullet from without pinged into the wall a couple of inches 
above his head, and recalled him to the danger of his position. 

The door of Eva’s room remained open. Ralph crept to- 
wards it stealthily along the ground near the wall He entered. 
The place was empty, that is to say, empty of defenders, for on 
the floor lay the corpses of two Englishmen. The window was 
wide open. Ralph rushed in. Seizing a musket and cartridge- 
belt from one of the dead redcoats, he jumped on to the sill, and 
thence into the open. 



to bayonet him 


The Englishmen were trying 


Page 169 










4 


THE FIGHT ON THE DELA WARE. 


169 


The battle was nearing its close. Here and there a few groups 
were still fighting, but their struggles were merely the last 
episodes of the combat. The ground round the hut was covered 
with corpses and wounded men. 

Ralph, muQh shocked at the horrible scene, went forward 
very slowly, not knowing what to do or what to say, a little 
stunned by the noise and dazzled by the light after the darkness 
of his hiding-place. 

Suddenly across the smoke he saw, a few paces off, a tall, 
stalwart man in the uniform of the Royal Auvergne engaged 
with two soldiers in red coats. The Frenchman was keeping 
his two enemies at a distance by his formidable fencing with a 
long cane having a heavy golden knob, which seemed to be his 
only weapon. The Englishmen were trying to bayonet him. 

The smoke cleared away for an instant, and Ralph recog- 
nized in the man with the cane his friend La Ramee. It 
seemed to him that fate had brought him here just at the 
moment when he could save his gallant comrade’s life, for the 
fight was obviously unequal, and already the drum-major 
seemed to be getting exhausted. 

With a feverish hand Ralph loaded his musket, scattered the 
powder over the flint lock, knelt, aimed carefully, and fired. 
One of the Englishmen rolled heavily on to the ground ; the other 
turned round astonished, and would have fled; but La Ramee’s 
cane was too quick for him, and down it came crash on to his 
head, and he sank beside his companion. 

Ralph jumped up, and ran towards the sergeant. 

“ La Ramee ! ” he said. 

At the apparition the brave fellow was so aghast, that he let 


170 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


fall his terrible cane. He stood still astounded, looking at the 
lad with huge round eyes. Then recognizing him, he 
sprang forward, and clasped him m his arms with touching 
tenderness. 

“ My good La Ramee, I am so glad to have found you 
again,” said Ralph excitedly. 

Suddenly the sergeant unclasped his arms, took a step 
backwards, and looking fixedly at him said, — 

“ Unhappy boy, what are you doing here ? Save yourself 
quickly before any one can see you.” 

“ Save myself, La Ramee ! You are mad ! ” said Ralph. 

“Then you had rather be shot?” continued the sergeant. 
“ How could you do such a thing ? ” 

“ I see what it is,” said the lad. “ You think I am guilty. 
It is cruel on your part to doubt me ! I swear to you that I 
am innocent.” 

“ I believe it if you say so,” said the sergeant sadly 
“ Heaven grant you may be able to prove it true to others ! ” 

“ Well, they will judge me and they will hear me ! ” said 
Ralph, raising his head. 

As he said this. Captain Sireuil arrived, who seeing La 
Ramde shouted to him, — 

‘‘ Get your drummers together, and beat the ‘ cease firing.’ ” 

“ Ay, ay,” said the sergeant, who, a slave to duty, went off, 
casting a pitying farewell look at Ralph. 

Captain Sireuil was walking away, when he caught sight of 
the lad. 

‘ What are you doing here, my boy ? Are you one of the 
people who lived in that hut ? ” 


THE FIGHT ON THE DELA WARE, 


171 

No, captain ; do you not recognize me ? 1 am Drummer 
Haudry of your regiment.” 

“What! you 1 Haudry I” exclaimed Captain Sireuil, hardly 
believing his eyes. “ But you unhappy boy, what are you doing 
here ? After having betrayed us, have you let us take you with 
arms in your hands fighting against your brothers Death is 
what you deserve ; and I ought to have you shot immediately.” 

“ Mercy, sir,” said the lad appealingly. “ Do not shoot me 
until you have heard me. I am not afraid of death. Death 
and 1 are old acquaintances ; but let me at least, before I die, 
defend my honour.” 

“ Very well, Haudry,” said the captain. “ Baron de I’Estrade 
shall decide your fate.” And turning towards a few soldiers 
who were near, he added, “ This man is your prisoner. You 
are responsible for him.’' 






CHAPTER XVIII. 



THE COURT-MARTIAL. 


|jO PLOWING Arnold’s example, Baron de I’Estrade 
took up his headquarters in the woodman’s hut, 
but he had not to trouble the hospitality of the 
old Acadian. The house was em.pty. David 
Michaux and his daughter Eva had disappeared during the 
battle. No one knew whither they had gone. 




Four grenadiers with fixed bayonets escorted him. 



THE COURT-MARTIAL. 


173 


By the sad irony of fate, Ralph was at the colonel’s order 
installed in the shed which had already served him as a place 
of refuge. A sentry watched the door of his prison. Again 
did calm reign over the valley where a few hours before there 
rang the shouts of battle. The soldiers were busy removing 
the wounded and carrying them under the tents abandoned by 
the English, where the regimental surgeon and his assistant 
did all they could to relieve the unfortunates. At the foot of 
the hill a deep ditch had been dug, and therein were laid the 
dead, friends and enemies, side by side The fight had been 
a murderous one, and the ditch was long and deep and full. 

The Indians under Red Fox had left the camp on the trail 
of Arnold and the fugitives, in the hope of cutting off the 
stragglers. 

Night had come, and alone in his prison Ralph was reflect- 
ing on his sad position. At first he had thought that he would 
only have to speak to have his innocence acknowledged, or 
at the least to have his fault forgiven. But neither La Ramde 
nor Captain Sireuil had believed him, and he felt that the 
others would not be more indulgent. 

And then everything told against him. His presence on the 
battle-field in the midst of Arnold’s men, with an English 
musket in his hand, was only one more of the proofs of his 
guilt. One man only could have explained matters, and that 
man had fled, abandoning him in a way that was unaccount- 
able, for before he had been put in prison Ralph had heard of 
the disappearance of David and Eva. Their bodies had not 
been found among those on the plain. 

“ At the least,” thought the lad, “ they have escaped.” But 


174 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


he remained alone without a defender, overwhelmed by ap- 
pearances, and an ignominious death which had already seized 
on him was threatening him again. 

“Well,’’ murmured Ralph, “better fall under French bullets 
than remain hanging on Arnold’s gallows ” 

And now he seemed to hear a slight noise. Some one was 
opening the door with great care, and soon an athletic figure 
appeared in the opening, standing out against the bright glare 
from some neighbouring bivouac fire. 

“Hush!” said a voice which Ralph recognized as that of 
La Ramde ; “ don’t make a noise.” 

The sergeant shut the door behind him with the same care, 
and advanced on tiptoe towards Ralph. Soon their hands met, 
and were long and cordially clasped. 

“ What have you come here for, La Ram^e?” said the lad in 
a whisper. “ If the colonel knew ! ” 

“Ah I” said the sergeant, “ I could not resist. La Fortune is 
on guard over your prison. I knew his weakness, and found 
him out, and brought him a bottle of brandy I bought at the 
canteen. While we talked I made him drink, and there he 
snores near the fire as drunk as a fiddler.” 

“ I am very glad to see you,” said Ralph, “ but you have done 
wrong, in order to give me this pleasure, to do what you have 
done.” 

“ But it is not only to have a few moments’ chat with you that 
I have come,” said the sergeant. 

“ And why, then ? ” asked Ralph. 

“ Well, to give you the key of the forest,” answered La Ramde. 
“We have talked enough ; be off, make haste to save yourself, 


THE COURT-MARTIAL. 


175 


and don’t let them catch you. You are sure to find some ship 
which will take you back to France ; once there they will pardon 
you, and if I ever return to the old country you can thank 
there.” 

The lad, indignant and astounded, knew not what to reply. 

“ And you believed I would go ? ” said he at length. 

“ Why not ? ” asked La Ramde. “ Every one has the right to 
save his skin if he can, and it seems to me from what I heard 
this evening that yours is in a good deal of danger.” 

“How can you propose such a thing to me?” continued 
Ralph in a tone of sorrowful reproach — “ you, the brave, loyal 
La Ramee ! You would have poor La Fortune suffer for me !” 

“ Oh, as far as that goes,” said the sergeant ingenuously, “ I 
was not going to get that rascal La Fortune in a mess. I was 
going to stay here in your place, and when they came — ” 

“ And when they came,” interrupted Ralph, “you would take 
my place in front of the execution platoon. Ah ! dear old La 
Ramde, I understand you now, and I thank you.” 

And throwing his arms round the sergeant, he pressed him to 
his heart. 

“ Then you won’t go ?” murmured La Ram^e. 

“ No, my true friend, I will not go. In the first place, because 
I have done nothing for you to demand such a sacrifice, and in 
the second and above all, because I am innocent, and as such 
I prefer to die rather than seem to acknowledge my error in 
escaping and deserting my regiment for ever. Don’t you be- 
lieve that all is lost. I will speak, and my judges will probably 
understand me.” 

“ Ah ! I know that you are innocent,” said the sergeant 


176 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


feelingly, “ but you must have proofs, for all the army knows 
that you gave the marshal’s despatch to that traitor, Arnold ; 
and that it was on account of your doing so that the Bourbonnais 
regiment which was marching towards Danbury fell into an 
ambuscade which the redcoats had laid for them.’’ 

“ I will say what I have to say,” said Ralph quietly. “ But 
good-bye, La Ram^e, day is breaking. They must not surprise 
you here. Shake hands and go.” 

The soldiers shook hands, and with bowed head La Ramee 
left, and again, as on his departure from Newport, the tears 
trickled along his big nose, but this time he took no notice of 
them. 

In the morning four grenadiers with fixed bayonets came to 
Ralph in his prison, and escorted him to the court-martial. 

With firm step the lad entered David’s house where the 
court was held. Behind a table which served for a desk sat 
the colonel, assisted by four officers of different grades, and a 
sergeant, the latter none other than La Ram^e. 

Ralph removed his hat, and stood erect in an attitude of 
modest self-respect. 

Baron de I’Estrade looked at him for an instant sadly and 
severely, and then he said, — 

“ Drummer Haudry, I beg to remind you that notwithstanding 
your dress you are a soldier, and I hope you will answer like 
one.” 

“ I will, colonel,” said Ralph composedly. 

“You are accused,” continued the Baron, “of having given to 
General Arnold, a traitor to his oath and his country, the 
despatch which Count Rochambeau had entrusted to you to 


THE COURT-MARTIAL. 


177 


take to General Washington. By this act not only did you 
fail in your mission, but you betrayed your masters and endan- 
gered the safety of the French and American armies. Are you 
aware of this ? ” 

“ Yes, colonel, I am aware that I failed in my mission, but I 
swear on my honour, before God and man, that I did not betray 
my chiefs. I myself was cruelly deceived by an infamous 
traitor, but I did not give up the despatch except upon the 
reiterated orders of a man whom I believed it to be my duty to 
recognize as my superior.’’ 

And then in a voice full of emotion Ralph gave a rapid 
recital of his sad odyssey since his departure from Newport, his 
meeting with the shepherd, his passage of the Hudson, the 
treason of Arnold, and finally his condemnation, his execution, 
and his long convalescence in the hut of David Michaux. 

And in conclusion he said, — 

“ You see, colonel, that circumstances were too strong for me, 
and that if I am guilty, it is in having accepted a mission which 
was beyond my powers.” 

He stopped, thinking he had convinced his auditory, but he 
turned pale when he heard the colonel, after having consulted 
the other members of the court, say to him in a grave voice, — 

“ Drummer Haudry, do not think that we can be duped by so 
cleverly imagined a story as yours. It appears from reports 
which have reached the marshal that if you did at first allow 
Arnold to deceive you, you afterwards never ceased from 
willingly following him. You have been seen at liberty amongst 
his horsemen, as when the troop passed the heights of Peekskill ; 
and you have here been made prisoner fighting in the ranks of 


178 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


him you accuse of deceiving you. Before suffering the fate which 
awaits you, I adjure you once more to tell the truth.” 

“ The truth, colonel, is what I have said ; it is nothing but the 
truth, and w^hat I can add to it will in no way change your 
opinion.” 

“ In that case,” continued Baron de I’Estrade, “ I give you 
an hour to prepare for death. The court-martial has decided that 
you shall be shot.” 

“ I ask only one favour, colonel,” said Ralph. 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ It was not at my wish, but at your formal order, that I wear 
the clothes I do. I hope you will allow me before I am shot to 
resume the uniform of the Royal Auvergne.” 

Be it so,” said the colonel ; and in a voice which but poorly 
disguised his suppressed emotion, he added, “ Soldiers, take him 
back to his prison.” 





CHAPTER XIX. 

THE FIRING PLATOON. 

HE officers had left the room in which had been 
held the court-martial which sentenced poor Ralph 
to death. La Ramee remained behind, seemingly 
unable to follow. With trembling hand he 
gathered up the official papers on the table, though, while 
he appeared thus busied, he never moved his eyes off the colonel. 
He, with a sorrowful, careworn face, was mechanically watching 




Captain Sireuil appeared on the threshold. 



i8o 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


the flames leaping up on the hearth. Suddenly he turned his 
head, and noticed the sergeant’s look fixed on him. 

“ What are you doing, La Ramee ? ” said he abruptly. 

“ I — I,” stammered the drum-major, but his tongue stuck to 
his palate, and refused to express his thoughts 
“ I know what you want,” continued the colonel ; “ you wish to 
intercede with me for this poor boy,’’ 

“ Oh ! colonel,” said La Ramde. “ Did you not hear what he 
said ? I am sure he is innocent.” 

“ It maybe true,’’ said the Baron, shaking his head. “ But all 
he told us had nothing to prove it, and, besides, is contradicted 
by overwhelming evidence. I should like to save the lad from 
death as much as you would, for it was I who chose him for 
his dangerous mission ; but my orders are precise. Count 
Rochambeau decided that the faithless messenger should be 
shot as soon as he fell into our hands, at least unless he could 
prove that he had yielded to force.” 

“But, colonel,” respectfully interrupted the sergeant, “did 
not the poor lad tell you that he had been deceived, betrayed 
by that infamous traitor Arnold? How could a child— for 
Ralph is hardly more— how could a child show himself 
cleverer than the great Washington himself, who entrusted that 
serpent Arnold with the arsenal of the insurgent forces ? ” 

“ It is no good, La Ramee,” said the colonel. “ Like yours, my 
heart is breaking, for I keep thinking that maybe the boy is 
innocent j but I should be to blame if I hesitated for a single 
moment to silence the feeling and forgot what is due to disci- 
pline. You are too good a soldier, and you have known me too 
long, to doubt the motives which influence me. But I tell 


THE FIRING PLATOON 


iSi 


you our position is most precarious. If we don’t show 
firmness, we are lost. Washington’s army is full of waverers ; 
every day there are desertions ; and the other day at Morristown 
a whole battalion had to be surrounded and decimated. It is 
'for us regular troops to set an example. We must have 
amongst us neither desertion nor weakness. The strongest pos- 
sible evidence is against Ralph Haudry. He must die. The 
only mercy 1 can grant him is not to delay his execution. Go, 
La Ramde, remember the honour of the Royal Auvergne, and 
exhort your friend to die like a man.” 

“ If you must shoot somebody,” persisted the sergeant, in his 
obstinate devotion, “ could you not allow me to take the lad’s 
place ? I am only an old fool, and once the little fellow is dead, I 
shall be good lor nothing.” 

You have got enough to do to die for your king and country,” 
said the colonel, holding out his hand. 

Go ; lose no time, for the execution must 
take place in an hour.” 

With head bowed, poor La Ramee came 
out of the room, and walked towards the 
shed where Ralph was confined. A 
sentry with loaded musket guarded the 
door, but at the colonel’s order he allowed 
the sergeant to enter the prison. 

“Well,” exclaimed Ralph, as he saw 
him approach,>“ what did I tell you ? ” 

“ Alas ! it is all over, my boy ! ” said 
La Ramde. “ You must prepare ! I have done all I could, but all 
has been of no avail.” 



THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


182 


“ Do you not see that I am ready ? ” 

La Ramde, now looking at him more attentively, saw that he 
wore the uniform of the drummers of the Royal Auvergne. 

“Yes,” said Ralph, “the colonel is a brave man. He kept 
his promise ; he has just sent me these clothes. I am not afraid 
of the bullets now. They will not hit a spy, but a true soldier 
who dies for his duty. Believe me. La Ramde, a day will come 
when they will know that I did not fail in my promise, and that 
to carry out Marshal Rochambeau’s orders I did all that was 
humanly possible.’’ 

La Ramee was sobbing. 

“ I am sure of it,” said he, in a broken voice. 

“ Baron de I’Estrade will perhaps one day repent what he has 
ordered to-day,” continued Ralph, “for he sympathizes with me, 
though he did not show it. I am sure he would have saved me 
if he could. As for you, La Ramde, I love you, and I hope 
that you will soon get over our separation. When the war is 
over, and you get back to our country— to France — ” 

Here Ralph broke down, his sobs choked his words, and, 
throwing his arms round the sergeant’s neck, he wept in silence. 
Soon recovering himself, he continued,— 

“ My own Touraine ! I shall never see you more. La Ramde ! 
Will you do what I ask? When you get back to France, 
go to Pontlevoy, that town in Touraine of which I have so often 
spoken. There you will find a cemetery, and in the centre of it 
there is a tomb. On that tomb have these words cut : ‘ Ralph 
Haudry, last Baron de La Charmoise, died for France, 
March loth, 1781.’ May I count on you ?” 

“Alas ! my boy,” whispered La Ramee, “ I will do what you 


say,’ 


THE FIRING PLATOON. 


183 


And now the door opened, and Captain Sireuil appeared on 
the threshold. ‘‘ Drummer Haudry,” said he, in a solemn voice, 
“ the moment has come.” 

It is well, captain,” said Ralph, “ I am ready and, turning 
towards the sergeant, he added, “ Good-bye, La Ramee, remem- 
ber your promise.” 

“ But,” said the drum-major, ‘‘ I am not going to leave you 
yet ; with the colonel’s permission, I shall accompany you to the 
end.” 

Ralph left his prison, followed by La Ramde, and guarded by 
a double file of soldiers, and the party moved off round David 
Michaux’s hut. 

Arriving on the plateau, Ralph perceived the whole regiment 
under arms, drawn up in line, and, as he approached, the drum- 
mers began to beat a mournful funeral march. The Baron, on 
horseback, surrounded by his officers, was at the head of the 
regiment. 

The poor lad’s heart leapt at the sight of all these solemn 
preparations, but he restrained the tears which filled his eyes. 
Passing before the colonel, he gave the military salute, a salute 
which the colonel returned with his sword— the highest honour 
that could be given— a testimony to the doubts surrounding a 
condemnation pronounced by the bare majority of a court- 
martial. 

At a sign from Captain Sireuil, the soldiers forming the 
escort stopped, and the provost, lightly touching Ralph’s arm, 
led him from the ranks to the foot of an oak a few paces 
distant. 

Arrived there, the young man turned round, and as the 


i84 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


provost was preparing to bandage his eyes with a sash, he put 
it aside, saying, — 

“ It is but a few months since I looked upon the terrible face 
of death. I could have driven it away with a word then, but 
that word I did not utter. My enemies allowed me to march 
to execution with my face uncovered ; will not you grant me the 
same favour ? ” 

“ As you please,” said the provost, moved by the lad’s great 
courage. 

“ Not only will I not bandage your eyes, but, by the colonel’s 
orders, you yourself can give the signal. You must raise your 
arm like this, when you are ready.” 

“ Thanks,” said Ralph simply, and he pressed the hand of 
the provost, who slowly retired. 

And now the poor lad could hardly have had any hope left. 
Twenty paces in front of him, with their pieces at the ready, 
stood the firing platoon, awaiting the signal which he was to 
give them. He had only to raise his hand, and death would 
be his, this time sure, swift and inexorable, for he knew 
that his comrades liked him too well to let him suffer much, 
and that their well-aimed bullets would be buried in his 
body. 

It all seemed like a dream, and for a few minutes he 
remained silent and motionless, as if fascinated. Then, 
reproaching himself with the short delay which might seem 
nspired by fear, he was about to give the terrible signal, when 
he heard near him a stifled sob, and, turning round, he saw by his 
side the good drum-major. 

“What are you doing here. La Ramde?” said he ; “ kiss me and 


THE FIRING PLATOON. 


185 


get away quickly. I have already made those brave fellows 
wait too long.” 

As he said this, a wild and terrible cry arose from the depths 
of the forest, as if from a crowd of wild beasts. Ralph turned 
round, and from the skirt of the wood there appeared a band of 
whooping Indians under Red Fox and Saskatcha. 

The savages leapt forward like so many raging tigers. In 
the twinkling of an eye they had reached the front of the 
French army, and then, probably imagining that the solemn 
display had been prepared for their reception, they began to 
move about like furies in their war-dance. Brandishing their 
spears and tomahawks, they shook their blood-stained locks in 
the wind, and writhed in strange contortions, while they shrieked 
and shouted their hoarse yells of defiance. 

Stupefied at the apparition, the soldiers of the Royal Auvergne 
forgot the sad ceremony which had brought them together. 
Even Ralph thought no more of death. 

Suddenly Red Fox raised his arms, and the group became 
silent and motionless. 

Then the chief marched up to the colonel, and in a loud voice 
said to him,— 

“ The Huron has kept his promises. He has given the enemy 
into your hands and let you crush him. Some of your enemies 
thought of gaining safety by flight. Red Fox pursued them 
tracked them through the woods, and he brings a hundred scalps 
which his knives have won from the hated palefaces. The Huron 
you see, is your friend, and with you he will destroy the red-haired 
dogs. Whoop ! ” 

And, giving forth his deafening war cry, the Huron 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


1 86 

recommenced his fantastic dance, imitated by all his war- 
riors. 

The colonel, grieved and annoyed at such a performance at 
such a moment, would have replied to the Indian and stopped 
him, but Red Fox never paused in his leaps and contortions. 

At last Red Fox found himself close to the firing platoon, 
motionless still at their post, and he was about to pass it when 
he saw Ralph standing at the foot of the oak tree. The savage 
stopped short, and, running towards the lad, shouted to him, — 

‘’Where is David Michaux.?’^ 

“ I do not know,” replied Ralph with surprise. “ He has 
probably fled.’’ 

“ How is it you are here without him t ” continued the Indian ; 
“ David promised me to watch over you.” 

The redskins, imitating their chief, had stopped their antics. 
The Baron, urging his horse towards the group, rode up to 
Red Fox with, — 

“ Leave that soldier alone, and stand back, it is no time now 
for songs of triumph.” 

“ But this soldier is my friend,” answered the Indian. “ I, with 
my own hands, snatched him from death when your enemy 
Arnold had hung him on an oak-tree branch.” 

‘‘ Red Fox ! ” exclaimed Ralph. “ But now, colonel, you see 
that I told you the truth ! ” 

The baron, much agitated, Lapt off his horse, and questioned 
the Huron, who described the incident in the drummer’s life in 
which he had played such a prominent part. 

The evidence of the Indian completely changed the aspect of 
affairs. By so much as Ralph had appeared guilty did he now 




















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THE FIRING PLA TOON. 


187 


appear innocent, and his devotion and self-denial were thus made 
strikingly manifest. The Baron de I’Estrade was only too 
pleased at the turn things had taken, and, stepping up to Ralph, 
he greeted him with, — 

“ My brave boy, this very day the court-martial shall again 
sit and hear the deposition of Red Fox; but I need not wait 
till then to tell you before all your comrades that you have acted 
like a brave, loyal Frenchman, and that your courage has been 
throughout simply heroic.” 

And he held out his hand to the drummer, who covered it 
with tears — this time, of joy. 

“ Count Rochambeau shall know what you have done,” 
continued the colonel, “and he will reward you.’’ 

And here there came a loud shout of “ Three cheers for the 
Baron de I’Estrade ! Vive La F' ranee.” It was from the good 
La Ramee, who, forgetful of all the rules of discipline and 
deportment, was indulging before his colonel’s eyes in a series 
of leaps and capers which would have done credit to the wild 
warriors of Red Fox. 




CHAPTER XX. 


A NEW FRIEND. 


hour or two afterwards the court-martial reassem- 
bled in the house of David Michaux^andlistenedto 
the recital of the Huron chief, Red Fox, as to how 
when hidden in an oak-tree on the banks of the 
Delaware, he had been present at the execution of Ralph by the 
traitor Arnold, and how, after the departure of the English, he 




The Royal Auvergne covered the retreat. 


A NEW FRIEND, 


189 


had been able to save the drummer, and carry him, just halting 
between life and death, to the woodcutter’s hut. 

When his story was finished, the court unanimously declared 
Ralph Haudry innocent of the crime of which he had been 
charged ; that is to say, “being entrusted by Marshal Rocham- 
beau with a confidential despatch to General Washington, 
having voluntarily given up such despatch to one of the generals 
of the English army.” 

Ralph, who was at once set at liberty, was received by his 
fellow-soldiers, who had been informed by La Ramde of the re- 
sult, with prolonged cheering. Four of the most enthusiastic, 
amongst whom was his old enemy La Fortune, even seized him, 
and hoisted him on their shoulders, and carried him in triumph 
through the camp. 

Towards the evening the Baron had Ralph sent for. 
Scarcely had he entered when he saluted him with, “ Believe 
me, I have suffered almost as much as you in this painful 
affair, and I am very happy that you came out of it so honour- 
ably.” 

“ You are too good, colonel,*' replied Ralph ; “ all that I did 
was my duty ; but all the same, it was hard for me to die when 
my conscience reproached me only with putting so much trust 
in a man I looked upon as my chief.” 

“ Every man, myself perhaps the first, would have acted as 
you did,” said the Baron. ^ And when I think that if it had not 
been for the arrival of Red Fox — But let us say no more about 
it. H enceforth all had better be forgotten except your courageous 
conduct. I suppose you will now resume your former position 
on my staff?” 


190 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“ Certainly, colonel. I shall be glad when another opportunity 
arrives for you to put my services to the test.” 

And Ralph took leave of his chief, and, as he came out, found 
La Ram^e waiting at the door. 

“The colonel has sent for me,” said the drum-major ; “ I am 
waiting my turn.” 

And he entered the hut. 

As La Ram^e entered, the Baron said to him, — 

“ I have been looking over the list of men we have lost in this 
affair. I see one of your corporals has been killed. Have you 
any one to propose in his place ? ” 

“ Why, yes, colonel — ” replied the sergeant, embarrassed. 

“I see you have not made up your mind,” continued the 
colonel. “ I have no doubt you will agree with me. The man 
I have thought of has not been very long in the regiment, but 
he seems an intelligent fellow, fond of his trade, and one we 
can reckon upon. I am almost inclined to make him corporal, 
if you have nothing to say against him.” 

“ And this man is — ? ” asked La Ramde timidly, 

“This man is Drummer Haudry,” said the Baron. 

“ Drummer Haudry ! ’’ exclaimed the sergeant. 

“You don’t approve of ,the choice?” said the colonel mali- 
ciously. “ Well, propose another of your men, for you are too 
good a judge for me to disregard your objections.” 

“ Oh ! colonel, you are very kind,” said La Ramde. “ You 
know that I love Ralph Haudry as my own son, and that 
I would never dare to have asked what yoy. have now pro- 
posed.” 

“ I know that, and I am very glad to reward your services in 


A NE IV FRIEND. 


191 

doing justice to the brave lad. Go. To-morrow the order of the 
day will bear your friend’s nomination.” 

La Ramee daparted, after thanking the colonel, and ran like a 
madman to the drummers’ tent. As soon as he saw Ralph, he 
shouted out, — 

“ Good news ! the colonel has made you a corporal ! ” 

“ Indeed ! ” was the surprised reply. 

But the sergeant took the surprise for indifference, and 
, immediately added, with some sadness, — 

“ That gives you less pleasure than it does me ! I understand. 
It is scarcely the rank that would be dreamt of by the Baron 
de la Charmoise— ” 

“What are you talking about. La Ramde?^’ interrupted 
Ralph. “ If you wish to remain my friend, never again mention 
that name in my hearing. I trusted you with my secret because 
I thought r was at the point of death, and I hope you will keep 
it as you would the confession of a dying man.” 

“ Do not worry yourself,” said the sergeant, “ you know that 
your secret is all right where it is, and that they might take off 
my head before they could get it out of me. But let us say no 
more about it. To me you will always be my little drummer 
Haudry, and nothing more.” 

“ That is it,” said Ralph. 

“When I say ‘nothing more,’ be it understood that T also say 
that you are the noblest corporal the Royal Auvergne drummers 
ever had.” 

For a week the baron remained at his position on the Delaware, 
reconnoitring in the neighbourhood, but the enemy had entirely 
evacuated the district. Arnold and the rest of the fugitives had 


192 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


reached Virginia, where they had joined the army under Corn- 
wallis, who was opposing La Fayette on the Chesapeake. From 
Indian spies the colonel ascertained that he had taken with him 
as prisoners David Michaux and his daughter, charging them 
with having had to do with the surprise which had proved so 
successful to the French ; according to the spies, however, he 
had done no harm to the prisoners, or to two soldiers of the 
Royal Auvergne who had also been carried off. He doubtless 
looked upon them as hostages. 

The Baron was preparing to retrace his steps and rejoin head- 
quarters when he received a message from Count Rochambeau 
The commander-in-chief informed him that, with the intention 
of effecting a junction with the American army, he was march- 
ing on Northcastle. At the same time, on Washington’s advice, 
he had advanced Lauzun to support General Lincoln, who was 
operating on the New York side. Baron de I’Estrade was to 
march for Bedford, on the left bank of the Hudson, and join 
hands with Lauzun. 

The Royal Auvergne immediately struck their camp, and, 
repassing the Delaware, made the best of their way to the 
rendezvous. 

After five days of forced marches, they joined the Franco- 
American troops, and the baron put himself under the orders of 
his superior officer, the Due de Lauzun. 

The English occupied a strong position before New York, 
protected by the guns in Fort Knyphausen. 

Lauzun hoped to draw them out and surprise them by 
a bold manoeuvre. Either the American general did not 
understand, or only half understood, the combined movement, 


A NEW FRIEND. 


m 


and the engagement resulted in^the complete defeat of the allied 
forces. The French troops, however, checked the pursuit. 

“Although my men were worn out with fatigue,” wrote 
Lauzun, in his report of the engagement to Rochambeau, “ I 
marched again against the English. I charged their cavalry, 
and my infantry exchanged volleys with theirs. General 
Lincoln profited by this to retreat in dreadfully bad order. He 
had two or three hundred men killed or taken prisoners, 
and a great many wounded. When I saw he was safe, I com- 
menced my own retreat, and fortunately lost no men.” 

. The Royal Auvergne, who were ordered by Lauzun to cover 
the retreat, were in action during the whole day. 

As the Duke said in his report, the men were quite worn out 
with fatigue, for they had not had a day’s rest since leaving the 
Delaware. However, they withstood the charges of the veteran 
troops of Clinton, who were elated with their victory, and they 
slowly retired, without leaving any of their wounded behind 
them. They were not, however, able to save the wounded 
of Lincoln’s division, who were too numerous for their means of 
transport. 

The evening arrived, the English seemed to have abandoned 
the pursuit, and only kept up a feeble fire against the Royal 
Auvergne. At length the fire dropped off altogether, and the 
baron called in his men, and marched off towards Notting Hill, 
where Lauzun was waiting for him. 

The soldiers were by no means pleased at this defeat ; La 
Ramde more than any of them was quite exasperated. “ If they 
have any sense,” said he, “what can these English think of 
us .? In the first serious engagement, for that affair the other day 


194 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


hardly counts, they see us filing off before them like hares from 
the dogs, not that it is the fault of our colonel nor the Due de 
Lauzun, but it is very hard all the same.” 

Night had already fallen, and the soldiers were marching in 
open order through the underwood, when Ralph heard, at a 
short distance off, the long, sorrowful cry of somebody in pain. 
The cry smote him to the heart, and on the impulse of the 
moment, he was running off in the direction it came from, when 
La Ramde stopped him. 

“ Where are you off to .? ” he said. “ It is only some poor 
beggar of an American.” 

“ American or not, he is there alone, abandoned,” said the 
lad warmly. 

Like a good many of the others,” said the sergeant ; “but we 
can do nothing for them to-night ; we shall see to them in the 
morning, unless the English pick them up.” 

“ I will go and give him a drink,” said Ralph, “ that will do 
him good, perhaps, and soothe his pain a little.’’ 

And he ran towards the wounded man. Guided by the cries, 
•he soon found him, lying in a ditch among the bushes. 

Aided by La Ramee, who had followed him, he began by 
dragging the poor fellow out of his painful position, and seating 
him on the bank. They then gave him a mouthful of brandy. 

After drinking it, the wounded man handed back the flask, 
saying in French, “ Thank you, sirs.” 

Ralph was astonished, for he wore the uniform of the American 
volunteers, and he said to him, “ Are you a Frenchman ? ” 

“ No,” said the soldier ; “ I am an American, but my family is 
of Canadian origin.” 


A NEW FRIEND. 


195 


“Canadian ! ” exclaimed Ralph. “ What is your name, then ?" 

“ Pierre Michaux.” 

“Pierre Michaux?” said the drummer ; “the grandson of 
David Michaux ? ” 

“Yes,” said the American, with surprise, adding, “You know 
my grandfather ? ” 

“ Never mind,” answered Ralph ; and then, turning to La 
Ramee, continued, “ we must take this fellow with us under any 
circumstances.” 

“ Impossible,” said the sergeant. 

“ Impossible ! Do you know that this is the grandson of the 
man who saved my life 1 ” 

“ Are you sure of it ? Well, lend a hand, and I will take him 
on my back.” 

They lifted up the wounded man, who, having a bullet in his 
leg, could not walk, and then La Ramde hoisted him on to his 
shoulders, and walked off through the wood, saying to Ralph, — 

“ Your new friend is as light as a feather. 1 could carry a 
couple like him.” 




CHAPTER XXL 
PIERRE’S ENLISTMENT. 



5ASHINGT0N, on being informed of the check 
experienced by Lincoln, rapidly hurried up troops 
in support. Aided by Lauzun’s cavalry, which 
boldly penetrated within sight of the fortifications 
of New York, he brought the English, who again threatened to 
ascend the left bank of the Hudson, to a halt. 

The Royal Auvergne had retreated in excellent order, and gone 



“ In the king’s name, drink ! 


PIERRE^S ENLISTMENT. 


197 


into entrenchments in the village of Philipsburg, as Rochambeau 
who was then encamped at Northcastle, had ordered. 

Borne on the sturdy shoulders of La Ramde, Pierre Michaux 
had been brought to one of the regimental ambulances, and 
Ralph had obtained the colonel’s permission to himself watch 
over his new friend. 

The young American’s wound was fortunately not serious. 
The bullet had penetrated above the knee, and passed round the 
thigh bone without smashing it, and the surgeon assured Pierre 
that, once he recovered, he would be able to return to his duty in 
the American army without feeling any after-effects of his accident. 
He had, however, failed to extract the projectile, and this painful 
operation had thrown the invalid into a fever which required 
constant care and attention. In fact the 
sanitary state of the camp was simply 
deplorable. 

With the month of June there returned 
those burning heats which characterize 
the summer in this part of New York, 
and the wounded, roughly lodged in the 
houses of the village, succumbed in num- 
bers to the attacks of lock-jaw, even from, 
injuries which appeared to be trifling. 

Ralph quitted Pierre’s bed-side as 
seldom as possible. In watching over the unknown, with 
whom he had scarcely exchanged a dozen words, he felt quite 
delighted at the chance which had brought him in his way on 
the field of battle. Was not this unknown the brother of Eva, 
the grandson of David, the only thought and hope of those who 



198 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


had snatched him from the arms of death ? And so he would 
thus pay his debt of gratitude, and while the long night through 
he watched at the side of Pierre, he saw beside him the gentle 
figure of the girl who smiled on him, encouraged him, and 
thanked him for his care. 

At length the fever abated, and Pierre came back to life ; the 
first hand he clasped was that of Ralph, who gladly welcomed 
hisjreturn to consciousness. 

Then gently did the drummer relate’ to the convalescent how 
he himself had been saved by David and Eva. 

But when Pierre exclaimed, “ Ah ! how well I recognize there 
my brave grandfather and my dear little sister ! But tell me 
how was it that they remained among our enemies the English! 
Old David does not like them, and I am astonished that he 
did not take advantage of the occasion to withdraw and follow 
the French army ! ” Ralph hesitated to tell him the truth. Pierre 
was almost too weak to bear the terrible news, and he contented 
himself with saying, — 

“Assuredly if they knew they would find you here, they 
would have left their hut and followed you. But how does it 
happen that I find you fighting in the American ranks, when 
your grandfather told me you had enlisted in an English regi- 
ment ? ” 

“ Pll tell you,” said Pierre. “You know that my people were 
Acadians ; but Acadia no longer exists ; France has forgotten all 
about it ; and my country, the country for which I would give 
the last drop of my blood, is America. From the time I could 
think I have hated the English, first for the wrong they did to 
my people, and then for the way in which they have since 


PIERRE^S ENLISTMENT. 


199 


sought to oppress these colonies. As soon as I learnt that the 
people of Boston and Philadelphia had risen against England, 
and that General Washington was raising an army of militia to 
deliver the country, I resolved to enlist under the colonial 
colours. 

“ On the pretext of selling the skins which we had gained by 
our winter trapping, I went to Layton, and endeavoured to 
ascertain how I could manage to reach Washington’s 
army. Unfortunately I spoke too loud. I inquired of an inn- 
keeper, who I thought was a patriot ; the scoundrel betrayed 
me. 

“ One day as I was at the inn I saw the English commandant 
enter. He came up to me and said, — 

“ ‘ I understand you want to be a soldier ?’ 

“ I stammered out a denial ; but, without taking any notice of 
it he continued, — 

“ ‘ It is .a capital idea, that of yours ; we want a few strapping 
fellows like you, and I am sure that the red uniform of my 
fusiliers will fit you like a glove.’ 

“ And turning to the innkeeper, he said, — 

“ ‘ Bring this lad a glass of whiskey. Bill, that he can drink to 
the health of King George, our gracious sovereign.’ 

“ The innkeeper placed on the table a glass full of the spirit. 

“ As angry as could be, I had risen, and was about to leave the 
place without drinking, when I noticed that the door was 
guarded by red- coats. At the same moment the commandant 
drew a pistol from his belt, and pointing it at me, said, — 

“ ‘ In the king’s name, drink ! ’ 

“ What could I do ? I drank without saying a word. 


200 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


“The soldiers took me off to the barracks, and there put me 
into the red uniform. Then I went with them to New York, 
where our regiment was ordered. 

“At first I was rather a prisoner than a soldier. Two of my 
comrades were told off to take care of me, and never left me for 
an instant. It was impossible for me to write to my grandfather, 
to tell him what had occurred. 

“However, I pretended to get reconciled to my lot, and I began 
to laugh and drink with my comrades. At last they thought I 
had got over it, and I was left as free as the other soldiers, 
which was not very much so, certainly, for they were always 
afraid of desertions. 

“ In a few months our regiment left New York and marched 
southwards. On many occasions we came in contact with the 
insurgent militia, but as none of the engagements were serious, 
I was unable to put my project of flight into execution. 

“ At length, after the battle of Wilmington, in which, to my 
great disgust, the Americans were utterly defeated by the 
English, I found myself one evening taking part with a small 
corps despatched by our general, Cornwallis, to surprise a 
detachment of Washington’s troops, who had taken refuge in a 
small wood on the banks of the River Brandywine. 

“We were about 200 in number, and, leaving the camp at 
night-fall, we started off at the double across the fields with our 
commandant at our head. At the end of an hour we reached 
the river, which we were able to cross without difficulty, the 
water not reaching to our waists. When we got on the other 
side our leader divided us into little parties, and ordered us to 
make a detour across the plain. This was doubtless to take the 


PIERRE^S ENLISTMENT. 


201 


insurgents in the rear. At least I thought I understood his 
plan, and I was anything but pleased to see that it would be 
successful, for the Americans had never thought of keeping 
a watch at this point, and from where we were I could dis- 
tinguish their fires alight in the woods and their sentries 
posted along the river. 

‘‘ With great precaution we advanced, and we were not more 
than 200 paces from the edge of the forest. We could already 
hear the voices of the insurgents as they talked round the 
bivouac fire, when one of our men, stumbling against the trunk 
of a tree, uttered a smothered oath, where- 
upon the commandant immediately 
observed, — 

“ ‘ The first man who makes a sound 
shall have his brains blown out’ 

“ This threat was quite a ray of light 
for me, and I thought what a stupid I was 
not to have thought of it before. Any- 
way,. I had no time to lose, so I suddenly 
drew myself up, and with all the force of 
my lungs I shouted out in the night, ‘ On 
guard there, Americans ! ’ and at the same 
moment rushed off towards the wood. The commandant kept his 
promise ; scarcely had I opened my mouth than he discharged his 
pistol point-blank at me. He missed, it is true, but not by much? 
for the bullet went right through my hat. I ran, but the English 
ran after me, blazing away as if I was a hare, while the Amei icans 
received them just as warmly. I found myself between two fires, 
the bullets crossing each other all round me, and it is a miracle 



202 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


that I ever survived. The first American who saw me approach 
made a desperate lunge at me with his bayonet. Luckily I 
escaped with a prodigious tear in my red coat. I ought to 
say that later on the gallant fellow apologized sincerely for his 
unfriendly reception. 

“To return to the affair,— the English, seeing that their enter- 
prise had failed, hurriedly beat a retreat ; but notwithstanding 
their steadiness, they could not cross the river as easily as they 
had done at first, and lost seriously, as they were harassed by 
the Americans. 

“ As for me, after allowing myself to be taken prisoner, I 
explained matters to the American commander. And he con- 
gratulated me, and at once put me into the ranks of the 
Pennsylvanian militia. That is how I became an American 
soldier, and how I changed my red coat for a blue one.” 

“I congratulate you,” said Ralph ; “your conduct has been 
quite heroic.” 

“ Perhaps so,” said Pierre quietly ; “ but you know if the 
English get hold of me, I shan’t trouble you very long. Four 
bullets in the head, and all will be over.” 

However, Pierre rapidly recovered his strength, and, once on 
his feet, he set about rejoining his regiment, though Ralph did 
not let him go without acquainting him with the news of his 
grandfather and sister. 

“David and Eva prisoners of Arnold !” exclaimed the young 
American, in astonishment. “ But what will he do with the poor 
people 1 the triple traitor ! ” 

“He accuses your father of having helped the French,” 
continued Ralph. “ However, I hear that no harm has been 


PIERRFJS ENLISTMENT. 


203 


done to them, and that he simply keeps them prisoners, 
holding them perhaps as hostages against the day when he 
himself will be taken ” 

“ Ah ! yes ! ” said Pierre indignantly, “ the scoundrel ought 
to pay for his villanies. However, if fate will that he escape 
the just punishment he deserves, he will have to settle with me 
for what he has done to-day.” 

“ When that settlement takes place I will be with you, Pierre,” 
said Ralph ; “ I myself have already a long account to square 
up with Arnold.” 

Pierre went away, but a few days afterwards Ralph saw him 
come back, this time with his regiment. Washington had 
selected Philipsburg as the rendezvous for his army, and was 
there to meet Marshal Rochambeau. 

On the 8th of July the French arrived ; they had crossed 
under a burning sun through Connecticut and along the scorch- 
ing plains of the Hudson, but they marched in gaily in perfect 
order. 

For the first time the two armies found themselves united, 
and the meeting was welcomed by the soldiers with great 
enthusiasm. 

French and Americans seemed to divine that the day would 
mark the end of the long and enervating period of preparation 
which they had undergone, and that under the leadership of 
Washington they would in a few weeks give America her liberty. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

WASHINGTON’S PLAN. 

N the 3rd of September, 1781, Philadelphia awoke to 
the sound of her bells ringing out their loudest 
and cheerfullest. Since sunrise the houses had 
been hidden beneath gay-coloured draperies and 
garlands of flowers, while from every window there floated the 
banner of the United States, mingling its dazzling stripes with 
the white and golden lilies of France. Early the busy crowds 
in their Sunday clothes began to fill the principal streets, and 



Rochambeau entered the square. 





WASHINGTON'S PLAN. 


205 


every face looked glad. Never since the famous day when the 
representatives of the colonies had proclaimed the indepen- 
dence of America had the city of the Friends given way to so 
general and exuberant a demonstration. The prim Methodists, 
the solemn Quakers even, were in no way backward in the 
expression of their satisfaction in a manner little conformable 
to their character. 

What then had happened to throw these worthy people into 
such an ecstasy of good humour ? Had the English abandoned 
the struggle, embarked in their ships, and gone off to old England ? 
or had Washington in a pitched battle annihilated Clinton ? 

Nothing of the sort ; but the American army had entered 
Philadelphia, and the French army was to follow on that very 
day. With consummate ability Washington had set Clinton off 
on a false scent, and without striking a blow had achieved the 
passage of Virginia which the English general had disputed so 
long. Quickly passing New York, which lay waiting to be be- 
sieged, he had traversed Pennsylvania and hurried to join 
La Fayette, who held Cornwallis shut up in Yorktown. The 
Franco-American army of the north was to join hands with that 
of the south, arid it was patent to the eyes of all that Cornwallis 
could not resist their combined efforts, particularly as a French 
fleet had just been signalled entering Chesapeake Bay. 

At this news the American patriots who were assembled in 
Congress gave way to paroxysms of delight. Success was not 
as yet, nor deliverance, but after so many days of anguish 
Washington’s daring and fortunate manoeuvre had appeared 
like the first ray of the sun piercing the veil of black clouds and 
preparing to victoriously disperse them. 


2o6 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


As we have said, Washington had arrived unexpectedly the 
evening before, and the citizens hastening to meet him, had seen 
with deep feeling defile through the streets of Philadelphia that 
handful of old men, negroes, and mere lads, wan and tattered 
and bare-footed, which represented the National army. Every 
hat was raised as the heroic militia went by, and with loud 
hurrahs “the Father of his Country ” was greeted. 

To-day the town was in gala trim. It was not their sons that 
they expected — and they were proud of them despite their 
tatters — but the strangers, the friends, the valiant soldiers sent 
by France to the succour of America, to whom a worthy 
reception was due. 

Since the morning all the churches of the city — and there were 
many of them— had rung out their joyous peals. About eleven 
o’clock the cannons added their gruff voices to the concert, and 
soon an immense murmur arose and swelled along through the 
crowd. 

“ The French are coming ! ” 

The general-in-chief Count Rochambeau, surrounded by his 
aides-de-camp De Vauban, De Closen, and De Fersey, and a 
brilliant staff, at length entered the square, where, drawn up 
before the State House, the Members of Congress were waiting. 
Putting spurs to his horse, he advanced and saluted with his 
three-cornered hat the President of the Confederation, who 
gravely returned his greeting. And then the hats of the 
spectators flew into the air, and there rose a mighty shout 
of— 

“ Bravo, France ! Hurrah for the Frenchmen ! ” 

Count Rochambeau having saluted the Congress, crossed the 


WASHINGTOAPS PLAN. 


207 


square, and, with his officers, took up his position by the side of 
General Washington. 

Then the march in commenced — opened by Viomenil’s 
brigade, the Royal Auvergne at the head. 

At the sight of these superb soldiers, clothed in their white and 
blue, swinging along in perfect order, smart and trim as if they had 
just come out of barracks, the enthusiasm became indescribable. 
The men were hoarse with hurrahing, the women at the windows 
and balconies threw flowers and waved their handkerchiefs 
till they could do so no longer. Some of the patriots thought 
with sorrow of the tattered militia of the evening before, which 
afforded such a miserable contrast, but even these applauded, 
saying that the day would come when the American troops would 
be as good and as presentable, and that they would owe their 
being so to these very Frenchmen. 

Here again La Ramde met with his customary success, and 
the crowd gave him a little ovation to himself, when, arriving 
before the Congress, he stopped and, as a salute, sent his heavy 
cane whirling in the air, and caught it gracefully in his out- 
stretched hands. 

After the Royal Auvergne came the Soissonnais, who, with 
their bearskin bonnets and white and red plume and their turned- 
back embroidered skirts, were much admired. These were fol- 
lowed by the natty hussars, led by the most elegant and most 
intrepid officer in the army, the handsome Due de Lauzun. 

All the troops— infantry, cavalry, artillery — came in for 
general admiration, and when the march past had ended, and 
the soldiers were dismissed, the inhabitants swarmed round and 
struggled for the honour of pressing on them their hospitality. 


2o8 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


The good citizens of Philadelphia threw so much ardour into 
their well-meaning invitations that the soldiers, harassed and 
bothered on all sides, knew not which to accept. 

La Ramde appeared to be favoured with more votes than 
any. He had become the prey of a group of fanatic 
triends, who not being able to secure the man with the cane as a 
whole, seemed anxious to bear him off in parts. 

Ralph, like a good corporal, endeavoured to protect his 
superior officer from the quartering with which he was threatened, 
but he would doubtless have been helpless had not unexpected 
assistance arrived. He was just being dragged off when he 
heard himself called by his name, and turning his head perceived 
his friend Pierre Michaux, who, elbowing his way through the 
crowd, said to the assailants, — 

“ It is no good, sirs ; these gentlemen are already engaged.” 

The young militiaman having, not without difficulty, rejoined 
his friends, managed to get rid of their fervent admirers, and 
drew them away from the group. 

“You arrived just in time,” said Ralph, when they had come 
out of the melde, “ a little later and we should have been torn to 
pieces.” 

“ Ah ! gallant fellows ! good fellows ! ” said La Ramee, rubbing 
his sides ; “ no doing things by halves among them, no half- 
hearted hand-shakings there ! How friendly they are, and how 
strong they are ! For two pins, if I was Mr. Oua — you know 
the rest — I would get some of them together, and make a famous 
regiment of them. What fists ! my arms and shoulders are quite 
sore, and my back has had at least half-a-dozen whacks which 
were intended for other people.” 














The prey of a group of fanatic friends 


Page 208 





















WASHINGTON'S PLAN. 


209 


“ You must not be angry with them,” said Pierre. “ They are 
so glad to see you here.” 

“ I bear them no malice,” said La Ramee ; “ on the contrary, 
I admire them.” 

“ But where are you going to take us ? ” asked Ralph of 
the young militiaman. “ I know that in saying we were 
engaged you only wanted to free us from our effusive 
friends.” 

“ Not so,” answered Pierre ; “you are, as I said, engaged, and 
invited in advance. I am going to take you to the house of the 
man whom all Americans know and respect, and whom all who 
bear the name of Acadian love as a father, that is to say, 
to Antoine Benezet. He is an old friend of my grandfather’s. 
Yesterday, when I arrived, I went at once to see him, and he 
offered me his hospitality. When I told him your story he ^lade 
me promise that I would not allow you to go elsewhere than to 
him.” 

“ Is he a Frenchman? ” asked Ralph. 

“ He is to-day a good American, devoted entirely to our cause 
and our country,” said Pierre ; “but he was born in Old France 
at St. Quentin, whence his people were driven by religious 
persecution.” 

And Pierre led his friends towards one of the suburbs, 
and introduced them into an unpretending house, at the 
bottom of a lane, whose silence strikingly contrasted with the 
noisy tumult they had left. 

An old servant, in a quakeress bonnet, admitted them to a 
courtyard, where they found the master of the house engaged 
in reading the Bible. He was a fine, noble old man, of benevo- 


210 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


lent aspect, and rose as he saw his guests arrive, greeting them 
with these words,-— 

“ Welcome, gentlemen. Allow me to say with every other 
American, ‘You are our brothers, and the liberators of our 
country.’ ” 

“We thank you, sir,” said Ralph, “ as much for your kind 
reception, as for the honour you have done us in choosing us as 
your guests, humble as we are in rank and name.” 

“ It is with the humblest instruments that the noblest works 
are achieved,” said Benezet. “ What is rank and position to 
me.? For me you are France, and it is France that I honour 
in honouring you.” Then to put an end to these compliments, 
he added, — 

“But you ought to be hungry after such long marches. 
I wiy not keep you waiting long. Come in. Luncheon is 
waiting.” 

Entering the dining-room they were soon seated before a 
solid hodge-podge, the attack on which was preceded by a short 
grace from Benezet. 

La Ramee was dying with hunger, and ate heartily of the 
savoury dish. But, his appetite having been somewhat appeased, 
his thirst awoke, and he rather knitted his brows when looking 
round for the wine or beer he hoped to find, he saw on the table 
only a steaming tea-urn and a jug or two of water. Now the 
good drum-major had quite a feline aversion for water, and as 
for tea, he did not think it much better than linden or camo- 
mile, or any of the other infusions whose place is rather in the 
sick-room than on the well-appointed table. 

However, his thirst grew overpowering, and with hesitating 


WASHINGTON'S PLAN. 


211 


hand he had resolved to pick up the water-bottle, when Benezet 
stopped him, saying, — 

“ I hope you will excuse me, sergeant, but I forgot. Although 
I only drink water or tea myself, I have a few bottles of old 
wine which I keep for the sick. I shall certainly feel no qualms 
if I sacrifice one or two to welcome you.” 

He rose from the table, and a few minutes afterwards 
returned with a couple of bottles covered with a venerable coat 
of dust. 

The wane unloosened La Ramie’s tongue, and the repast 
continued in the midst of a lively conversation. Then when the 
cloth was removed, Benezet invited the sergeant to light his 
pipe, which he did without ceremony, and the talk continued. 

“Indeed, sirs,” said Antoine Benezet, “your arrival in this 
town was so unexpected that when the news reached us very 
few would believe it. Old as I am, and living here amongst 
the poor, I am not up to date in what is going on, and I am 
curious to learn how without giving battle our beloved Washing- 
ton was able to win such a victory ; if, of course, there is no 
indiscretion in asking you about such matters.” 

“ We are allowed to tell you all that we know,” said Ralph ; 
“and you are hardly in any case the man to betray your 
country’s secrets. 

“It was not till a year after our arrival in this country that we 
emerged from the inaction which was so galling to us. On the 
8th of last July, when our army united with the American 
militia at the camp of Philipsburg, we all thought that the last 
moment had come and that Washington was preparing for an 
important effort. 


212 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“ In fact, on the 14th of July it became evident to everybody 
that we were going to lay siege to New York. From that 
moment we were continually on the move, harassing the 
English troops, and driving them behind their entrenchments, 
while our sappers pretended to begin their works of approach. 

“ Both ourselves and the American militia were making 
continual reconnaissances up to the enemy’s works. That cost 
us a good many men, but it kept the English perpetually on 
the alert, and above all, convinced Clinton that our object was 
to shut him up in New York. This was precisely what Wash- 
ington wanted. 

. “ One of our reconnaissances, however, cost us very dear, and 
might perhaps at one blow have ruined the hopes of the 
Americans.” 

“ How so ? ” interrupted Benezet, deeply interested. 

“ Yes,” continued Ralph ; “ one day the English were just 
on the point of taking prisoners both Rochambeau and 
Washington.” 

“That would have been a disaster,” said the old man, “An 
irreparable calamity ! But how could such a thing happen ? ” 

“A detachment of our regiment had been told off to watch 
the beach on the face of Long Island, where the enemy had a 
fairly strong post, when Washington and Rochambeau came to 
inspect this part of the line. 

“ A small island in the middle of the strait hiding us from the 
view of the camp, the generals resolved to advance there so as 
to reconnoitre the position and allow the engineers to measure 
the width of the arm of the sea which separated the island from 
the English bank. Baron de I’Estrade, our colonel, with a few 


WA SH2NG TON’S PL A N. 


213 


men, of whom I was one, and a small squadron of American 
dragoons accompanied the reconnaissance. Now this island 
was joined to the shore where we were by a narrow causeway 
leading to a mill, and this enabled us, the tide being out, to go 
there dry-footed. 

“ While the engineers were engaged in their trigonometrical 
operations we kept ourselves hidden behind a group of trees 
close to the sea, so as to avoid drawing on us the fire of two 
frigates, which were moored in the strait. The operation took 
some time. Washington and Rochambeau, who had passed the 
night on horseback, were stretched on their cloaks at the foot of 
a hedge, and worn out with fatigue, were fast asleep. But time 
was getting on and our colonel hesitated to interrupt the repose 
of the two generals. At last he decided to awaken them. 

“ We quickly returned towards the mill causeway we had 
crossed in the morning : it was covered with water. Our em- 
barrassment increased when we heard the cannon, for the 
enemy had perceived us, and doubtless suspecting that we had 
with us the two chiefs of the army was preparing to send his 
boats in pursuit. Happily, we soon found on the island a 
couple of punts, in which generals and soldiers embarked, 
taking with us the saddles and trappings of the horses, which 
were driven into the water and swam to land. 

“ As we neared the bank the English boats doubled the island ; 
but our riflemen kept them at bay. Had we been a few 
moments later we should all have been captured.” 

“ The hand of Providence evidently protected you,” said 
Benezet, with fervour. 

“ So,” continued Ralph, “ the operations continued, and we 


214 


THE DR UMMER-BO V. 


were all persuaded that we were to remain for months before 
New York. The siege promised to be a long one, for the 
English had erected some most formidable works. 

I have heard that at this time Washington, in order to con- 
vince Clinton of his intention to besiege him, wrote a confidential 
letter to the Marquis de la Fayette, in which he begged him to 
leave Virginia in all haste, and come and help him take New 
York; and matters were so arranged that this letter fell into the 
hands of the enemy. 

“ And thus it was that Clinton was shut up in New York, when 
the bulk of us received orders to strike our camp on the 19th of 
August, and without sound of either drum or trumpet take the 
road to Virginia. We already had had ten days’ start before the 
English general waiting behind his ramparts discovered our 
real movement. He could not stop us then, and here we are. 

“ Now it seems we are to march on Yorktown, where the 
Marquis de la Fayette is already half-besieging Lord Cornwallis. 
Our colonel said yesterday, in my hearing, that he thought the 
war would be over before the winter.” 

“ May Fleaven grant it so ! ” said Benezet. “ Already the suc- 
cess has been great, and I seem to see liberty dawning at last. 
My spirit is doubly glad. Arrived at the end of my long career, 
it has been given me to see France, the country of my fathers, 
breaking the fetters of that great American people who opened 
their arms to me in the days of my exile.” 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

A nocturnal visitor. 

IRCUMSTANCES, which had for so long shown 
themselves adverse to the American cause, seemed 
now to unite to bring about its triumph. Washing- 
ton had scarcely arrived at Philadelphia, having, 
as we have seen, so cleverly duped the vigilance of Clinton, 
when he received from Baltimore the news of the arrival of a 
French fleet in Chesapeake Bay. 





Twenty-eight sail of the line dropped anchor at Lynhaven. 



2i6 


THE DRUMMER- BOY. 


The Comte de Grasse, at the head of twenty-eight sail of 
the line, had doubled Cape Henry, and dropped anchor at 
Lynhaven. He had immediately landed 3000 men, and these 
under the command of the Marquis de Saint Simon started to 
reinforce La Fayette, before Yorktown. On the 5th of Sep- 
tember, the day after his arrival, the French admiral went out 
to attack an English squadron under Admiral Graves, which 
had pursued him from the West Indies; but night fell on 
the struggle. 

When the morning dawned, the English admiral, who had 
the weather gage, unexpectedly declined to renew the action, 
and, on returning to his anchorage, De Grasse found that the 
other French fleet under De Barras had arrived in the bay 
from Newport, bringing all the material necessary for siege 
operations. 

Rochambeau was sailing up the Delaware in a sloop, in- 
specting the fortifications of Philadelphia, when he was hailed 
from the bank by Washington, who announced the important 
news with an exuberant joy which contrasted markedly with his 
habitual gravity. 

In fact the arrival of the French fleet was quite a providential 
event. Victory was certainly smiling on the cause of Indepen- 
dence. It was necessary, however, to take instant advantage 
of the favours she offered. 

The two generals modified their plan of campaign, and 
decided to join La Fayette in all haste, so as to crush Corn- 
wallis before Clinton could send an army by sea to his support. 

On September 6th, therefore, the Franco-American army 
left Philadelphia, and marched for Yorktown. Two days 


A NOCTURNAL VJSJTOR. 


217 


afterwards they reached the head of the Elk, where there is 
a little port. The generals had intended to embark their 
troops, and take them by water to the mouth of the James 
River ; but the means of transport were wanting. The 
American militia, and only a few of the French regiments, 
could be taken on board. Viomenil’s brigade, to which the 
Royal Auvergne belonged, had to go by land. 

Washington and Rochambeau, not wishing to run the risk 
of a return of the English fleet, decided to remain on 
shore, and taking a small detachment 
with them, went on some forty-eight 
hours ahead cf the army. 

The detachment which escorted them 
was commanded by Baron de I’Estrade. 
Ralph being on the colonel’s staff, of 
course formed one of the escort ; but 
the good La Ramee was almost left be- 
hind, and it was only at the lad’s 
urgent entreaty that the baron decided 
to take him with them. 

“ I wonder what would have happened 
if they had left me behind,’’ said the 
drum-major, as he walked along with vigorous strides. “ Have 
I not a right to be always the first ^ And besides, since your 
adventure at West Point I am no longer easy when you are 
away by yourself.” 

“Look here, La Ramee,” interrupted Ralph, “you don’t 
intend always to look after me like a nurse, do you ? You 
still take me for a child ; but 1 am a man now, and, thanks 



2iS 


THE DRUMMER^BOY. 


to my illness, I have grown so that even the lanky La Fortune 
could not find fault with my height.” 

“ Oh, don’t be angry, Mr. Baron,’’ said the sergeant. “ I 
know you are a full-grown corporal drummer ; but I have my 
ideas about you, and you won’t alter them. A head like yours 
is capable of everything, and requires looking after.’’ 

However, despite these somewhat motherly terrors of La 
Ramee, this march along the coast of Chesapeake Bay pre- 
sented no serious danger. The English army of Virginia was 
entirely concentrated in Yorktown, in front of which it kept 
La Fayette ; and the worst they could encounter would come 
from the gangs of robbers of loyalist proclivities, which were 
roving about the country. A battalion of the Royal Auvergne, 
and a squadron of Lauzun hussars would, 
however, be rather too much for these 
gentlemen of the road. 

The capture of the two chiefs of the 
Franco- American army might prove, 
notwithstanding, too tempting for some 
partisan or other, and all the usual pre- 
cautions against ambuscade were taken 
on the march. The hussars scoured the 
country for a long distance, and in the 
evening, when the party encamped, the 
village was always girdled with sentries. 

They proceeded thus, without adventure, to within two 
stages of Williamsburg, where Washington had given the ren- 
dezvous for the whole of his forces. And here they encamped 
at a fishing hamlet, composed of a few huts grouped on the beach 



A NOCTURNAL VISITOR. 


219 


of Chesapeake Bay, not far from the mouth of the Rappa- 
hannock. 

During the march they had noticed a few horsemen prowling 
about the neighbourhood, with whom they had even exchanged 
occasional musket-shots. When the Baron de I’Estrade 
arrived at his bivouac he consequently took more than ordinary 
measures of precaution, doubled his sentries, and gave the 
word for the men to hold themselves in readiness to turn out 
at a moment’s warning. 

Rochambeau smiled when he heard of the measures taken 
by his subordinate, and could not refrain from saying, — 

“ My dear L’Estrade, it is always well to keep good watch, 
and now more than usual when we are responsible for the 
safety of the man upon whom depends the fate of America ; 
but we should not exaggerate the danger. The few footpads 
we have come across ought not to make us tremble. I think 
the fifty men told off on guard every night would be quite enough 
to settle them, and you would be able to let the others enjoy 
their well-merited sleep after their long weary marching.” 

“ You must excuse me, sir,’’ said the colonel respectfully, “ I 
am not quite so confident as you. When I think what might 
happen from a bold attempt to carry off from our army the two 
chiefs it would be impossible to replace, I feel that it is a very 
heavy responsibility you have put upon me.” 

“ You are chief of the escort,” answered Rochambeau good- 
humouredly ; “ I do not want to interfere with what you may 
think necessary for our safety.” 

And so, notwithstanding these observations, the colonel, 
accompanied by Ralph, himself went the round of the camp. 


220 


THE JJRUMMER-BOV, 


and did not return to his lodging until he had seen that 
very one was at his post. 

The colonel’s uneasiness did not escape the young 
drummer, and so, when his chief had retired, instead of re- 
joining La Ramde, who had taken up his quarters in a fisher- 
man’s cabin, he remained for some time undecided what to do, 
and sat down near the door of the house. 

It was a splendid night, and, in spite of the absence of the 
moon, the myriads of stars which gemmed the celestial vault 
gave sufficient light to clearly define the outline of the houses 
and of the objects which covered the plain. 

Captivated by the charm of this summer’s night, Ralph 
remained sitting before the colonel’s quarters, and never thought 
of regaining the bed— or rather the bolting of straw- — which 
awaited him. 

The words which the baron had spoken in his hearing 
returned to his mind. What, thought he, would become of the 
army if Washington and Rochambeau disappeared together ? 
All would be lost. It seemed to him that his own fate was 
bound up with that of these two men. Hitherto the war had 
been barren, lengthy, and unattractive ; but triumph was 
approaching, and some small part of it might be reflected on 
the humble drummer. Might he not in the coming battles find 
occasion to die a noble death or to do some noble action ? And 
then perhaps he could aspire beyond the corporal’s lace, which 
only very moderately satisfied his ambition. The day might 
then come when he could resume the name which his poor 
father had allowed to fall into such dishonor. And in his sleepless 
reverie Ralph already beheld himself, in the embroidered uniform 


A NOCTURNAL VISITOR. 


221 


of the king’s officers, re-entering the Chateau de la Charmoise, 
which by some marvellous venture he had reacquired. 

All at once he was recalled to reality by a slight sound, which 
seemed to come from the hedge surrounding the house wherein 
slept the generals. 

Looking attentively he seemed to see some of the 
spiny boughs in motion, and the moment afterwards he 
distinguished a black form stealthily creeping in the direction 
of the building. 

What was he to do ? Shout to arms ? But perhaps it was 
only a soldier trying to steal the fruit in the orchard ! His 
alarm in that case would only bring ridicule on him. He would 
awaken the whole camp, soldiers and generals, to get one of his 
comrades into trouble. The thought of the incorrigible La 
Fortune flashed across his mind, and stopped the shout which 
was just escaping from his lips. 

However, he rose and quietly walked into the shadow so as 
to approach the mysterious marauder. By taking great pre- 
caution he managed to gain the hedge without awakening his 
attention, but when he had got there the man was no longer to 
be seen. 

Creeping in his turn along the enclosure, he followed it up to 
the point where it joined on to the angle of the house, and he 
was already thinking that he had been the sport of some 
illusion, when, raising his head, he saw, this time distinctly, a 
man standing upright before the door. 

The man was standing motionless, and seemed to listen as 
though some noise had attracted his attention. Then, doubtless 
reassured, he ascended the two high steps leading to the door- 


222 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


way, and his profile at this moment was clearly defined on the 
star-studded background. 

He was an officer. So thought Ralph, as he saw glistening 
the gold lace of his hat and uniform. And he reproached him- 
self with his first movement of suspicion. The unknown was 
doubtless some aide-de-camp going late to bed, who would 
sharply rebuke the humble corporal who had been spying on 
him ; and so the lad was noiselessly moving away when he 
stopped at a movement on the part of the officer, who drew a 
pistol from his belt and carefully inspected the trigger. Then, 
with the weapon in his hand, he leant against the door, so as to 
force it in with the weight of his body. 

And now Ralph understood. At a bound he was on the 
intruder, and before he could turn he had thrown his arms 
round him with all his strength. 

The shock had been so sudden and unexpected that the two 
adversaries rolled on the ground at a yard or two from the 
house. But the lad had not relaxed his grip, and now, under 
the pale brilliancy of the stars, there took place a breathless, 
silent struggle. 

Ralph was, however, engaged with a man of strength. Not- 
withstanding all he could do, he felt that his enemy would soon 
get him under. In vain he tried to hold him ; little by little his 
arms, by the violent wrenchings, were forced apart and released 
their prey. Not till then did he think of calling for help, and 
with all the force of his lungs he shouted out in the silence of 
the night, — 

“ To arms ! Murder ! ” 

And at the cry the unknown made a powerful effort, and, 



The bullet just grazed his forehead. 


Page 223 


















A NOCTURNAL VISITOR. 


223 


disengaging the arm which held the pistol, he pointed it at the 
drummer. Instinctively, as it went off, Ralph stooped back- 
wards, and the bullet just grazed his forehead ; but the flash 
revealed the face of his foe. 

“Arnold ! ” exclaimed Ralph. 

But already the traitor had risen, and was running off in the 
shadow. 

As the drummer regained his legs, the soldiers came rushing 
up from all sides ; the generals themselves, awakened by the 
noise, appeared at the door of the house. • 

“What is up?” asked Washington. “What does all this 
disturbance mean ?” 

“ It means, sir,” said Ralph, “ that ex- General Arnold has 
ventured here with the apparent intention of killing both of 
you. He was trying to force that door when I managed to stop 
him, and in the struggle he fired his pistol at me without doing 
me any harm.” 

“Arnold!” said Washington. “ It is impossible. You are 
dreaming, my boy.” 

But already the soldiers had scattered in every direction in 
pursuit of the fugitive. They soon returned, announcing that 
the sentries had seen a man pass quickly through their line, and 
had fired on him without effect. 

Baron de I’Estrade, greatly agitated at the event which 
seemed to confirm his presentiments, had also hurried up. In 
the presence of the generals he interrogated Ralph. 

“ Are you sure that you recognized ex-General Arnold ? ” 

“ I have, as you know, colonel, too good reasons for knowing 
him, to be mistaken,” replied the lad. 


224 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“ In spite of your positiveness, my lad,” said Washington, 

“ such a crime seems to me to be impossible. Arnold ! A p 
man I loaded with benefits ! But never mind who it was j both 
Count Rochambeau and I beg to compliment a gallant soldier 
who, at the peril of his life, has saved us from this despicable 
attempt. This is one of your men, Baron de I’Estrade 

“Yes, general, he is one of my orderlies.” || 

“ Well, then,” continued Washington, “ I congratulate you. 
From what he has told us, he has shown rare coolness, and a 
decision whi?h does honour to his courage.” 

These flattering words, spoken before all the men of the 
detachment, were so great a recompense for his devotion that 
Ralph, quite astounded at so much good fortune, thought he 
would have cried ; and as quiet was restored and each regained 
his quarters. La Ramee whispered in his ear,— 

“ You are getting on, baron ; another night like this, and it is 
you who will command me ! ” 





CHAPTER XXIV. 


BEFORE YORKTOWN. 


jjORKTOWN, the fame of which will live for ever, was 
in 1781, and is to-day, but an unimportant place of 
little extent, with its tile-roofed houses, bordering 
York River, a small stream flowing into the Chesa- 
peake estuary, not far from its junction with the sea. 

Cornwallis, the commander of the English army in the south, 




Washington took the match. 


226 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


had allowed himself to be played with by La Fayette, as Clinton 
had been by Washington, and had here massed his forces, 
believing that he could hold the post long and successfully 
against the combined troops of France and America. These ! 
amounted to 1 5,000 men, and were superior in number to his ! 
army, which consisted of a little under 9000 ; but he imagined j 
that the Franco-Americans had neither siege artillery noi | 
even field-guns in sufficient quantity, while he was amply , 
provided with cannon of all sorts, and had sheltered himself ^ 
behind good, solid entrenchments. The English had in fact | 
surrounded Yorktown with a line of redoubts covering every | 
point susceptible of attack, and had so transformed the place 
into an entrenched camp that it might be considered a fairly 
strong fortress. 

Washington and Rochambeau, however, had on the 14th of 
September rejoined La Fayette, and twelve days afterwards the 
whole of the two armies mustered at Williamsburg, a village 
near the James River, about ten or a dozen miles from 
Yorktown. 

To the intense astonishment of Cornwallis, the Franco- 
Americans on the next day but one commenced the investment 
of the place, and owing to the impossibility of stopping the 
movement, the English general found himself obliged to i 
evacuate two of his defensive points which were suddenly 
menaced. 

Rochambeau hastened to profit by the retreat of his advei - 
sary, and despite a lively cannonade from the English, 
immediately occupied both the abandoned redoubts. 

The position on Pigeon Hill, the most important of these, 


BEFORE YORKTOWN. 


227 


fell to the Royal Auvergne, who there took up their quarters 
without delay. At the same time, Brigadier- General Viomenil 
ordered Colonel de TEstrade to clear the wood which separated 
the redoubt from the town ; and the Auvergne Grenadiers, with 
their bayonets at the charge, drove the English back on their 
second line of defence. 

This opening engagement was a very hot one, and cost the 
Royal Auvergne somewhat dear, there being a great number of 
killed and wounded ; and when evening came and our two 
friends, Ralph and La Ramee, found themselves once again 
together at the bivouac-fire, the good sergeant could not help 
expressing his satisfaction that they had both come safe and 
sound out of so warm an encounter. 

“Well, my boy,” said he to Ralph, “I thought this time it 
was getting serious. What we had to-day was hardly a battle ; 
but if we are going to have many skirmishes like it, I don’t 
think it will require a very large boat to take the Royal 
Auvergne back to France. And the colonel ought to take care. 
He has no sense ; he is always in the front rank, as if we had 
to follow him to march properly. A colonel such as he ought 
to be careful of the bullets, for he is more indispensable to us 
than all the riiarshals and generals in the army.” 

“ Don’t worry yourself, La Ramee,’’ answered Ralph. “ The 
Baron knows his trade as well as you do, and he has too much 
true courage to risk his life uselessly. Without him I do not 
think we should have carried the wood as we did. When we 
got near the edge, those English fellows welcomed us with such 
a fusilade that I saw all our men stoop their heads and give 
way for a moment. We had to beat the charge loud enough to 


228 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


stave in our drums, and not one followed ; and I, for my part, 
don’t think I should have been to blame, for the bullets 
screamed around enough to deafen one. My heart leapt when 
I saw the poor little drummer at my side fall, shot through the 
forehead. And then I heard behind me the voice of the Baron 
de I’Estrade, shouting, — 

“‘Come on, my lads ; what is the matter? Is the distance 
too much for you ? ’ 

“And I saw him striding in front, waving his sword towards 
the wood, which was quite alive with redcoats.” 

“Yes,” interrupted La Ramee, “ and on seeing him like that, 
as calm as if he was on parade, we all closed up behind and 
followed, and in the twinkling of an eye the English were upset, 
and we had taken their places. Ah ! the Baron de I’Estrade 
is a brave man, and that is why I had rather have a dozen 
bullets in my own skin, than see him get a single scratch. 
And he is so good with it all — ’’ 

“ Besides," continued Ralph, “ from what I heard the colonel 
say to Captain Sireuil, we shan’t be long before we begin the 
game again. It appears that the English are shut up in their 
entrenchments, and we must meet them pickaxe in hand. 
General Washington has ordered the approach works to begin 
to-morrow, and we shall all have to turn to work, for it appears 
we must get into Yorktown before Clinton has time to wake up 
and come to the rescue.” 

“Well, my boy, what does it matter?" said the sergeant 
philosophically. “ We will dig. For my part, it won’t be the 
first time. 1 have seen more than one siege, and I never feel 
dull in the trenches. You advance like moles, it is true, 


BEFORE YORK TOWN, 


229 


burrowing into the earth in front of you ; but every now and 
then you have to jump out of your ditch to exchange shots with 
the besieged, who have come to worry you. To say nothing of 
the enemy’s batteries, which drop into your trench many a big 
bomb that goes off with a bang, and often gives you a little 
excitement if it does not lift the skin off your back as you are in 
full retreat from it, and blow you head foremost into the mud.” 

“Yes,” said Ralph, “but at the end of the trenching duty 
there is the assault.” 

“ That is true, but it is hardly worth taking into account,” 
said La Ramde, “ for when you reach the assaulting point, your 
enemy has got rather poorly, and with your General Oua — 
Washington, we may perhaps do here what we did at New 
York, and while Cornwallis is waiting for us, we shall be miles 
away.” 

“ I do not think that,” said the lad. “We have got him this 
time, and we shall not let him go.” 

On the 1st of October, Washington announced to Congress 
that the investment was complete, and that the Franco- 
American troops had occupied all the positions round York- 
town. The siege artillery, of which Cornwallis thought they 
were destitute, had arrived, and the men were engaged in 
making gabions and fascines for the attacking batteries. 

A few days afterwards the French began the first parallel at 
about 800 paces in front of the English entrenchments. At 
daybreak the companies were put under the orders of the en- 
gineer officers ; and the men, armed with pickaxes and shovels, 
commenced to throw up the ground. 

The generals had come to assist at the opening, and every 


230 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


one set gaily to work, despite the English musketry fire, which, 
howev’^er, did little damage, thanks to the gabions which each 
man had to shelter him. 

Washington, walking among the French officers, said to them 
good-humouredly, — 

“ I am sorry to say that the state of the Congress finances 
does not permit us to give you tools worthy of the work you 
are beginning. You ought to have shovels and pickaxes of gold 
or silver, for the monument whose foundations you are digging 
will be one of the noblest that man ever raised, and its gran- 
deur and magnificence will, in the coming centuries, astonish 
the world.” 

Continuing his walk, the general arrived at the battery on 
Pigeon Hill, which had just been finished, and the French 
officers invited him to fire the first gun. The piece had been 
loaded and laid. Washington took the match, and lightly held 
it to the touch-hole of the cannon. At the report the officers 
and men gave a loud shout of “ Vive I’Amdrique ! ’’ at which 
the American general took of his hat, and responded, — 

“Vive la France ! gentlemen. May neither of our nations 
ever forget this day ! ” 

However, the works advanced rapidly. Every day while 
the parallels drew nearer and nearer to the enemy, new batteries 
were unmasked, and the bombs and balls did immense damage 
to the town. 

Cornwallis at last began to perceive his mistake. Persis- 
tently did he attempt to break through the circle of fire with 
which he was girt ; but each time he was hurled back 
Lauzuffis cavalry and Weldon’s mounted militia scoured the 


BEFORE YORK TOWN. 


231 


country round, and rendered the investment so close that the 
besieged had no communication whatever with the outside. 
As for the besiegers, they had not a moment’s rest ; they laboured 
night and day, but not a man complained of the wearying 
work. 

“We have been taking it easy so long,” said La Ramee, 
“that it is time we should show we are not lazy.” And he 
twirled his pickaxe as if it had been his gold-headed cane. 

Ralph made only short appearances in the trenches, being 
continually occupied in bearing the orders sent by the colonel 
to the different detachments of his regiment. One day as he 
was passing through the American position he caught sight of 
Pierre Michaux, who ran up to him, shouting, — 

“Arnold is in Yorktown ! ” 

“Are you quite sure?” asked Ralph. “It seems to me 
extraordinary that, after his attempt the other day, he should 
have the temerity to shut himself up in a place which is doomed 
to fall into our hands.” 

“I have the news on good authority,” continued Pierre. 
“Yesterday we took two prisoners, whom I knew at New 
York, and they assured me that Arnold had rejoined Lord 
Cornwallis. He is with his cavalry on the Gloucester side ; and 
I suppose he hopes to escape at the last moment.” 

“ Have you any news of David and your sister ? ” said 
Ralph. 

“ Yes, and no,” said Pierre. “ One of the prisoners told me 
that Arnold had with him all the people he had taken off after 
the affair at the old oak ford ; but he could not say if my 
grandfather and Eva were amongst them. But I shall find out. 


232 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


We have got some spies in the town, and if necessary, I shall 
go in with them.” 

“ Don’t do that unless you tell me,” said Ralph, as he bid his 
friend good-bye. 

As he ran towards the trench he muttered, — 

“ Arnold in Yorktown ! We must see about this.” 

As he neared the battery on Pigeon Hill he saw the Baron 
de I’Estrade, of whom he was in search. The colonel was talk- 
ing with the Baron de Viomenil and Count Rochambeau. The 
soldiers had stopped working, and formed a respectful circle 
round their chiefs. 

Ralph approached, and he heard the Baron Viomenil 
say,— 

“ I do not agree with De I’Estrade, that we would do better 
to wait for a day or two. We have made the breach, and the 
enemy no longer replies ; the time has come for the assault on 
the big redoubt, and once master of that position, we can 
reduce the town to ashes when we please.” 

“ Well, gentlemen,” said Rochambeau, “ there is only one 
way of settling the difference. I will go myself and look at the 
state of the breach.” 

And giving the order to cease firing, Rochambeau, accom- 
panied only by his son, who was serving as his aide-de-camp, 
quietly walked out of the battery towards the enemy’s works. 

As if it had been a simple promenade, the general crossed 
the ravine, mounted to the foot of the redoubt, and then slowly 
returned towards the French battery. 

The English, astonished at his audacity, did not attempt to 
fire on him. As for De Viomenil, pale and trembling, he 


BEFORE YORKTOWN. 


233 


awaited in the trench the return of the marshal, reproaching 
himself with having, by his impatience, led his venerated chief 
into danger. 

As Rochambeau came back into the battery he merely said, 
with a smile, — 

‘‘ My dear Viomenil, the abattis and palisades are still all 
right. We must keep up our fire, and smash them, and 
batter the parapet. We shall see to-morrow if the pear is 



CHAPTER XXV. 


TWENTY-FOUR HOURS’ LEAVE. 

HE news that Arnold was in Yorktown had made 
on Ralph a profound impression, 

His enemy was there, close to him, shut up within 
the girdle of iron and fire with which the Franco- 
Amerlcan army had enveloped the besieged town. What mad- 
ness had urged Arnold to put himself in the trap, when a few 




“Arnold is in Yorktown?” asked Ralph. 


TWENTY-FOUR HOURS' LEAVE. 


235 


weeks before he was free to scour the country ? Liked the dazed 
skylark, he had flown at the brilliant mirror displayed by La 
Fayette and Washington, and partaking the infatuation of 
Cornwallis had fancied that he saw therein the opportunity 
of overwhelming his detested adversaries. Like the English 
general, he thought that the trenches of Yorktown would 
become the tomb of the insurgents as well as of their French 
allies. 

But now the renegade had seen his error, and appreciated 
the greatness of his fault. Day by day the grip of his enemies 
tightened round him, and he trembled doubtless as his punish- 
ment approached, fatal, inevitable, and from which nothing 
could save him. But supposing in spite of all that was being 
done Arnold by some dark combination succeeded in getting 
away before the place was handed over to the allied army ? 

At the thought Ralph felt his heart leap within him. Cost 
what it might he resolved to use all his feeble powers, all his 
courage, to bring the traitor to expiate his crime by some 
exemplary chastisement. But what could he do, he, a simple 
corporal of drummers, against the powerful brigadier of his 
Britannic Majesty? Arnold would have smiled in pity had he 
known that he had to fear so sorry an adversary. 

Ralph was sitting in the battery, occupied with these reflec- 
tions, when he saw running up to him his friend Pierre 
Michaux. 

“ Well,” exclaimed the militiaman, puffing away, quite out ot 
breath, “ the news I told you yesterday is true.” 

“ Arnold is in Yorktown ? ” asked Ralph. 

“ Yes, that is quite certain,” replied Pierre. “ I have just left 


236 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


one of the spies, who has seen the traitor at the head of his 
cavalry in the Gloucester quarter. There is no doubt about it. 
But the man has given me more important news still. My 
grandfather and sister are also shut up in the town.” 

“ David and Eva ? ’’ 

“Yes, both safe and sound. Arnold has kept them near 
him, for what reason I cannot make out. ' The spy assures me 
that he treats them as though they were hostages, and threatens 
to shoot them, and the other prisoners in his hands, in case he 
is excepted from the capitulation. But I can hardly believe 
such infamy.” 

“ For m.y part,” said Ralph, “ I believe Arnold capable of 
anything.” 

“ And from what the spy says,” continued Pierre, “ it would 
appear that the traitor keeps his prisoners shut up in an isolated 
house situated between Gloucester and Yorktown, and is accus- 
tomed occasionally to go there, probably so that his absence 
should not be noticed in case he should try and escape.” 

“ Escape 1 ” asked Ralph. “ Would it be possible ” 

“For a man who knows all the ins and outs of Yorktown 
as I do, for I passed my childhood here, nothing would be 
easier than to get through our lines and gain the open ; but I 
don’t think Arnold could do so. It would be a very dangerous 
road, and even I should not attempt it without some fear. 
I rather think that in case of a general attack on our part, the 
traitor, who has prudently taken up his quarters with his cavalry 
near Gloucester, would profit by the confusion, and cut his way 
through the American lines. It could hardly be hoped in that 
case that Weldon’s horse, who are on guard on that side, could 


TWENTY-FOUR HOURS' LEAVE. 


237 


succeed with their weedy hacks in catching Arnold and his 
heavy dragoons, or even in barring their way.” 

‘‘ But if that is so, the scoundrel will get 
away again,” said Ralph, astonished at the 
calm manner of his friend. 

“ That is very probable ; but what is 
Arnold to me We are sure to come 
across him again one day or other. What 
we have got to do now is to save my 
grandfather and my sister, for I tremble 
when 1 think that they are in Arnold’s 
hands.” 

“ What are you going to do ? ” 

“This,” said Pierre. “The spy who 
has given me all these particulars is going 
back into the town to-night, and I have 
got leave to accompany him. General Lincoln has given me 
" leave for twenty-four hours. Once in the besieged town, I don’t 
know yet what I shall do ; but if 1 don’t return to time, you will 
know that I have failed, and that I am dead.” 

“But think how difficult your enterprise is. How can you 
hope to get there and in one day deliver prisoners, doubtless 
carefully guarded ? I know that the assault is near. Perhaps to- 
morrow the town will be taken. Would it not be better to wait } ” 
“ If the town is soon to be taken,” continued Pierre, “ the 
more reason for me to lose no time. I have made up my mind 
to go this evening, and I only came here to bid you goodbye.” 

“ Goodbye ?” said Ralph. “ You think, then, that I am going 
to let you go like this ? ’ 



238 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


“ But — ? ” stammered the militiaman. 

No, no, you are not going alone,” said Ralph. “ I shall be oft 
to the colonel, and ask him for twenty-four hours’ leave, and go 
with you. I am sure the baron will not refuse me the favour.” 
“ But,” said Pierre, “ why risk your life ? ” 

“ Why ? ” replied Ralph. “ Because I am glad to have the 
opportunity of paying the debt which I owe your relatives ; 
because David and Eva are good people ; because I love them ; 
and because in saving them I thwart the projects of my enemy. 
There, I think you have some very good reasons. What time 
are you going 1 ” 

“ This evening at nightfall.” 

“ Well, this evening, immediately after the retreat, I will meet 
you. You can depend upon me.” 

While Pierre Michaux regained the American camp, Ralph 
went to the colonel. At the first words he uttered, Baron de 
TEstrade stopped him, and said, — 

“ Twenty-four hours’ leave ? Impossible ! I have myself 
given the strictest orders on the subject. Not a man ought now 
to be away from his post, for every moment we are waiting for 
the word to assault the big redoubt, which the artillery has 
been pounding away at for the last week or so. I suppose you 
would not like to be absent from the fun ? ” 

“ Decidedly not, colonel,” said the drummer respectfully ; 
“ but still I ask you to give me the leave. I hope to have time 
to keep my promise, and get back again before the assault.” 

“ I am astonished at your persistence,” said the baron. 
‘‘Excuse me, colonel, I may perhaps be taking a great 
liberty, but my honour is concerned.” 


TWENTY-FOUR HOURS' LEAVE. 


239 


“ What are you going to do in these twenty-four hours ? ” 

“I ascertained this very day that David Michaux, the man who 
saved my life, is a prisoner with his daughter in Yorktown. 
The man who has thus violated the laws of war and taken as 
hostages an old man and an inoffensive girl is no other than 
Benedict Arnold. With the aid of my bene'^actor’s grandson 
I hope to snatch the victims from his grasp before his 
vengeance can reach them. I beg you to grant me this favour^ 
and allow me to accomplish this duty.” 

“ It is a noble idea,” said the colonel, “and I recognize your 
generous heart Without knowing the means you intend to 
employ, I will grant your request. But in giving you the leave, 
I am myself infringing the orders of Count Rochambeau ; and I 
must tell you that if to-morrow at the ‘ lights out ’ you have not 
rejoined your post, I shall have to declare you a deserter.” 

“ I agree, colonel, and I thank you. I know my duty, and I 
hope that with Heaven’s help I shall return, having accom- 
plished my task.” 

“ Remember, then,” said the baron, “ that your life belongs 
to France. Do nothing imprudent or foolhardy.” 

Ralph went off at a run. Night was approaching : he had no 
time to lose. 

Arrived in his tent, he hastened to change his uniform for 
the clothes which he had already worn in his memorable 
expedition to West Point, and which he had carefully kept. 

He had just effected the transformation when La Ramde 
suddenly entered. 

At the sight of his young friend thus accoutred, the gallant ser- 
geant stood as if petrified ; then he exclaimed in an angry voice. 


240 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


“A thousand thunders! that’s it, is it? We are going to 
begin our games again, are we ? What if you do ? Look here, 
my Baron de la Charmoise, if you are a corporal, I am your 
sergeant, and so I forbid you recommencing your mas- 
querades I ’’ 

“ Come, La Ramde, don’t be angry,” said Ralph, laugh- 
ing. “ I have the colonel’s permission, and you can say 
nothing.” 

“ Nothing to say is soon said,” growled the sergeant. “You 
and the colonel are a pair of fools. It is plain enough you have 
again begun those pretty manoeuvres which succeeded so well 
before. Baron de I’Estrade may say what he likes, but a 
drummer, and a gentleman to boot, was made to carry his drum 
at the head of his regiment, and not to run about the country 
disguised as a chaw-bacon.” 

“ This time. La Ramde,” said Ralph, “ Baron de I’Estrade 
has nothing to do with it. I am going on an adventure 
on my own account. But time is pressing, and I must be 
off.” 

“Well, that is very pretty,” said the brave drum-major, quite 
scandalized. “ Have you any friends ? See how they treat you. 
You ask them where they are off to, to get their necks twisted, 
and they reply in the most musical ot voices, , Time is press- 
ing, and I must be off : good-bye, gentlemen I ’ ” 

“If you must know, I am going to Yorktown, to try and save 
David Michaux.” 

“ And if we fight here while you are away, what will they say 
to you ? ” 

“ They will not fight till I get back,’’ said Ralph ; and sud- 


TWENTY-FOUR HOURS^ LEAVE. 


241 


denly changing his tone, ‘^and if I never come back, La 
Ramde, believe me that in my last moment I shall think of you, 
and all your kindness towards me,” 

Before the sergeant could say a word in reply, Ralph had 
gone out of the tent, and departed at a run towards the 

The roll of the “ retreat ” was sounding 
on all sides when he met Pierre at the 
appointed spot. 

“ You are punctual,” said the militia- 
man. “ Though I thought for a moment 
that you would not come.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Ralph, “ it was rather 
difficult to manage ito First the colonel 
and then La Ramee did all they could to 
hinder me, but here I am, As you see, I 
have resumed my Canadian peasant’s 
dress.’’ 

You did well,” said Pierre. “ I forgot 
to tell you, but I hardly imagined you would think of walking 
about the streets of Yorktown in the blue and white of the Royal 
Auvergne. As for me, I have only got to slip a frock over my 
militia togger>^ and I shall be, I hope, unrecognizable.” 

And as he spoke a man came forward out of the gloom and 
whistled. 

As he heard the sound Pierre remarked,— 

“ That is our guide.” 

As they approached the spy, he looked at Pierre, and 
said, — 


American camp. 











242 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“ Who is this chap ? ” 

“A friend who is going with us,’’ said the militiaman. 

All right,” replied the man with a grin ; “ there is room 
for three in our carriage. Come along.” 




( 





CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE GREAT SWAMP. 

ORKTOWN is really situated on a small peninsula 
between the York River, which flows past it to 
enter the great bay of Chesapeake, and the James 
River, which enters the Atlantic a little farther to 

the south. 

The surface of this peninsula contains a few rocky elevations, 




The guiding mark - a tuft of rushes tied in a large knot, 


244 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


but the greater part of it is flat and the two rivers which border 
it form extensive marshes. 

One of these marshes, the Great Swamp, covers the town on 
the west ; it is large, not very deep, muddy, and the tide which 
invades it daily makes it quite impracticable for passengers on 
foot or for boats, whether it be dry or covered with water. It 
forms such a natural barrier, that, on the one hand, the English 
had erected no fortifications on its borders, and on the other 
the Franco-Americans had neglected to cover it in their line of 
investment. However, if the Great Swamp was an insurmountable 
obstacle to an entire army, or even a small troop, it was notorious 
in the country that there existed through it certain passages, which 
allowed it to be crossed here and there. Only these passages 
were so narrow, and wound about in so dangerous a fashion 
among gulfs of fathomless mud, that they were only known to a 
few daring hunters, and used by them in their pursuit of the 
numberless aquatic birds of the swamp. 

It was by one of these dangerous passages, known perhaps to 
him alone, that the spy, sent by Washington to report on the 
state of the besieged, had been backwards and forwards into 
the town many times previously, and hoped to pass with Ralph 
and Pierre to-night. Having crossed the French lines without 
difficulty, thanks to the countersign with which they had been 
furnished, the three nien gained the edge of the Great Swamp. 

The guide carefully looked for the opening of the passage, 
but the night was so dark that, in spite of his knowledge of the 
ground, he searched for some minutes in vain. At length he 
uttered an exclamation of delight, for his hands had grasped the 
guiding mark — a tuft of rushes which during one of his preceding 
journeys he had taken the precaution to tie in a large knot. 


THE GREAT SWAMP. 


245 


“ Here we are,” said he to his companions. “ Now, my lads, 
attention ! Keep your eyes open, and tread carefully. The 
least false step out of the road and over you go, head over heels, 
in the black mud of the swamp, which will swallow and stifle 
you before I have time to hold out a hand. I go in front, and 
you must follow, single file close up, not a yard in the rear. Let 
the man behind me hold on to my leather belt, and let the 
other get as close behind him as he can. Look sharp, for we 
must get to the other side before an hour is up, or the tide 
will catch us ; and once the tide comes in we shall be lost.” 

“ I know,” said Pierre. “ I have often crossed the swamp 
with my grandfather, when he used to come here after the 
ducks. I should not like to cross it alone to-night though 
and turning to Ralph he continued, “ you hold Ben’s belt, and I 
will bring up the rear.” 

In this order therefore the three men entered the narrow 
passage through the swamp. 

The darkness of the night was complete and impenetrable. 
Not a star shone in the sky, which was hidden beneath a thick 
mantle of clouds. A cold wind sweeping across the morass 
made the enormous rushes which covered it sway to and fro 
with the saddest of sounds. It required all the courage and 
cool determination of the three courageous men to venture 
on such a night amid the dreadful depths which even the 
bravest could not pass in broad day without a tremor. 

However, they advanced silently, and after half-an-hour’s 
progress had completed more than half the distance. 

“ Let us stop for a minute to take breath,” said the guide all 
of a sudden. “ I don’t know what is the matter with me to- 
night, but I am getting stifled. I never remember feeling like 


246 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


this when going across the swamp before. You might really 
cut the darkness with a knife ; and every moment I keep think 
ing that I have lost my way.” 

“ Are you sure of your road, Ben ? ” asked Pierre. 

“ Sure, no ! ” replied the guide. “ If I could only catch sight 
of a star I should be all right ; but, to tell the truth, I have been 
only feeling the way.” 

“ Let us get on,’’ said Pierre ; “ we ought not to stop here 
longer than we can help.” 

They resumed their journey, but they had reached the middle 
of the marsh’s depression, and the difficulties augmented every 
instant. Hitherto the* ground had offered a certain resistance 
to their feet, but here they were floundering about in semi-liquid 
mud, which almost reached their knees. The rank rushes rose 
above their heads, and brushed them with their clammy stems. 
The darkness seemed to get even more profound, and in this 
atmosphere, with its noxious miasma, their breathing became 
difficult and painful. 

Suddenly Ralph, who held the guide by the belt, felt a 
powerful wrench, for Ben had slipped, and was dragging him 
down with him into the abyss. 

By a superhuman effort the young man recovered himself, and 
clinging to Pierre, pulled the unfortunate man back on to solid 
ground, or rather, on to soil a little less yielding. 

“ Well,” exclaimed Ben ; “ I can tell you, my lad, I owe you 
one. Without you then my account would have been settled, 
and I should be I don’t know how many feet down in the mud. 
It does not much matter, though ; I am as afraid to go back as 
to go forward, for it is evident we have lost our way, and old 
Nick may have me if I can find it.’’ 


THE GREAT SWAMP. 


247 


“ That is not possible,” said Ralph uneasily. “ Take it coolly 
for a minute or two, and you will soon find the right road.” 

“ My dear fellow, it is as I tell you answered the guide. 
“We have already gone too far to go back, but I do not know a 
practicable road in front of us. And just listen ! ” 

Our friends shuddered, and listened ; and they heard a distant ’ 
rumbling, which seemed to be nearing them. 

“Well, my lads,” added the guide quietly, “ what you hear is 
the tide, which is coming in. You know what that signifies ; I 
told you before. If, in a quarter of an hour, we do not, by a 
miracle, find the road, we shall be caught, and I may tell you 
that in any case our clothes will get rather damaged.” 

The young men were shocked at the guide’s philosophy. 

It was not so much the death which alarmed them, as the 
slow and frightful engulfment with which they were threatened* 
At the thought of being swallowed up, and, full of life and 
energy, sucked slowly into the cold embrace of this slimy mud 
their hearts revolted in horror. 

“ Look here, Ben,” exclaimed Pierre, “ have a little courage. 
You are not going to let us stand still here to die quietly, with- 
out an effort to save us ? ” 

But the old guide, with his brain perhaps muddled with the 
vapours of the marsh, seemed not to participate in the terrors of 
his companions. Knowing the Great Swamp as he did for a 
lifetime, it seemed to him quite natural that once you were lost 
-in its mazes you should resign yourself to death without a struggle. 

“ All you can do will not move us from here,’’ he said impas- 
sively. “ I have known many brave men who have died as we shall 
do. They lost their way, and were heard of no more. If you could 
earch the swamp through, ou would only find their skeletons.” 


248 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“ Well, as far as we are concerned,” said Ralph, “ if you are 
going to leave us, we are not going to wait till death comes. 
We are going to retrace the road by which we have come ; we 
may get back to the bank.” 

“ That will be no good,” said Ben, “ but we can try.” 

And sounding the marshy ground with their sticks, they re- 
traced their road, when all at once the ground trembled beneath 
them as if struck by some subterranean commotion, a loud crash 
followed, and the sky was lighted up with a dazzling glare. The 
three men, stupefied, terrified, looked at each other mute with 
astonishment, each asking if some frightful cataclysm had come 
to hasten their fate. 

But their astonishment was of short duration. Little did it 
matter to them what was the mysterious cause which had so 
suddenly torn away the veil of impenetrable darkness that 
surrounded them. What they understood at once was that the 
light was for their safety, the unhoped-for means of escaping 
from their terrible situation. 

“We are saved, my lads,” exclaimed Ben; “Heaven has 
taken pity on us, and set fire to the clouds to guide us to the 
bank. Follow me.” 

Recovering all his energy, the old guide gained in a few strides 
the well-known passage which the darkness had caused him 
for an instant to abandon. Soon the three companions were 
hurrying along a narrow footpath, firm and solid, and of which 
the light shining in the sky showed all the sinuosities. 

It was not, however, a miracle which had come so oppor- 
tunely to the aid of the daring wanderers among the abysse 
of the swamp. 



The sky was lighted up with a dazzling glare 


Page 248 










THE GREAT SWAMP. 


249 


The English frigate Charon, anchored in York River, in 
front ofYorktown, had been for some days replying with her 
four-and-twenty guns to the batteries of the allied army. On 
this night the contest had ceased, when a red-hot shot from the 
Touraine battery dropped on to the deck of the frigate. This 
penetrated to the magazine, which blew up a portion of the 
ship, while the rest took fire and was soon enveloped in flames. 
.It was this immense conflagration which lighted up the sur- 
rounding country. 

Half-an-hour later the three travellers, guided by the reflection 
from the clouds, reached the English bank. 

“It was about time,” exclaimed Ben, as he jumped on to firm 
ground ; “a few minutes more, and we should have been lost.” 

And turning round he showed his companions the Great 
Swamp, whose surface was just disappearing beneath the rolling 
ripples of the tide. 




CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE PATRIOT INN. 




and his two companions reached the first house 
in Yorktown without having met a single sentry. 
The whole garrison, in fact, on this night, was 
afoot, and massed at their fighting stations, 
awaiting the attack of the besiegers. 

This attack seemed imminent, for in many places the ram- 
parts of the threatened works had been breached. 


The spy approached a low, narrow doorway. 


THE PATRIOT INN, 


251 


The burning of the Charon was over ; the half-consumed 
frigate had disappeared beneath the waves, and again had 
night, black and dense, covered the town and the country with 
its sombre cloak. 

The artillery duel had, however, recommenced. Bombs and 
red-hot shot were chasing each other overhead, streaking the 
darkness with their trains of fire, and bursting into showers of 
flame over the doomed city. 

“ It is not pleasant walking along these streets,” said the old 
guide. “ I am not particularly anxious to have a bomb on my 
head. Let us get under shelter.” 

“ Where are you taking us to ? ” asked Pierre. 

“To a place where we shall be as safe as at Williamsburg, 
and where you can speak without fear.” 

He was leading the young fellows along one of the narrow 
lanes on the outskirts of Yorktown. A few paces further on he 
drew up before a miserably-poor-looking house. “ Here it is,^' 
said he to his companions. “ Be silent ; above all, let me alone 
speak.” 

The spy approached a low, narrow doorway, half hidden in 
a kind of stone arcade, and he knocked at the wooden panel of 
the door five separate times at regular intervals. Nothing 
moved inside. 

Ben renewed his attempt, striking the door each time in the 
same way. 

This time he succeeded so far that a small peep-hole con- 
trived in the doorway was suddenly and noiselessly opened, and 
a voice asked,— 

“What do you want at this hour? ” 


252 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


“To see the thirteen stars,” answered Ben. 

“And the blue?” replied the mysterious interlocutor. 

“ The blue is worth more than the red,’’ said the spy. 

After this exchange of enigmatic words the shutter was 
quickly closed, and immediately there was audible in the 
interior a noise of bolts and locks, which proved that the place 
was well barricaded, and then the door opened, or rather half 

“ Look sharp,” said the voice. 

The three men glided rapidly through 
the opening ; the door was shut on them 
and they found themselves in a dark and 
narrow corridor. Following their con- 
ductor, they reached another door, also 
heavily bolted ; and that having been 
opened, they entered a large room 
lighted by several lamps. In the centre 
was a broad table, around which men 
were sitting, talking and drinking, and 
smoking long pipes. 

asylum was in fact an inn of somewhat 

The company were so absorbed in their conversation that they 
paid no attention to the entry of the new arrivals. One of 
them, however, happening to turn round, rose from his seat 
exclaiming, — 

“ There’s old Ben Gilmour. I told you he would be here to- 
night.’’ 

Then addressing the spy, he continued, — 





The mysterious 
sordid aspect. 


THE PATRIOT INN. 


253 


Well, what’s the news ! ” 

I have come to see if the corn is ripe,” answered Ben. “ The 
reapers are getting ready to gather it. But before I talk, bring 
me a glass of whisky. I want one to revive me, for withou 
my brave companions I should be now in some hole in the peat 
swamp.” 

So far. no attention seemed to have been paid to the 
presence of our friends ; but after what Gilmour had said, 
all eyes were turned on them, and many of the company 
exclaimed in a not particularly amiable tone, — 

“Who are these strangers.? What made you bring them 
here ? ” 

“ These strangers,’’ said the spy, “ are my friends, and I answer 
for them as I do for myself. The first one here is the grand- 
son of old David Michaux, whom you all doubtless know. He 
is a soldier in the Pennsylvania Militia, and has already served his 
country well. The other here is a young Frenchman, a corporal 
in the Royal Auvergne regiment ; that, I think, is good enough.” 

“ That is good enough for us,” said the man who had first 
addressed Ben. “ Welcome, sirs,” added he to the young men. 
“Take a seat amongst us, and be sure that whatever may be the 
motive which brings you here, you will find we will do our best 
to help you. There are none here but good loyal American 
patriots.” 

Thus invited, Pierre and Ralph sat down to the table, and 
accepted without ceremony a glass of whisky which was offered 
them, and whose warmth seemed to penetrate and revive their 
benumbed limbs. 

Ben then spoke, and briefly related the progress made in the 


254 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


besiegers’ works since his last visit to Yorktown. This narrative 
was received with enthusiastic cheers, and when he had finished 
each of the patriots gave him information 
regarding the state of the place, and the 
garrison. 

“ Hill Point Battery,’* said one, “had to 
cease firing the other day for want of 
ammunition. The arsenals are empty 
and Lord Cornwallis has ordered me 
to turn my forge into a bullet foun, 
dry.” 

“ The bread begins to give out,’’ said 
another, “ and the German officers of the 
Hessians have commenced to requisition 
all they can i their quarter.” 

“ Yesterday evening,” said a third, “ I was talking with an 
artillery sergeant, who assured me that his battery had lost half 
its men. Many guns are rendered useless, and the French fire 
is so accurate that even during the night the sappers find it 
impossible to repair the damage done by the fire during the 
day.” 

“ In fact,” added a fourth, “ the garrison is completely demo- 
ralized, and I am sure if you could only take the great redoubt, 
Lord Cornwallis would have to capitulate.” 

As the talk went on, the spy carefully noted what was said. 

Pierre and Ralph, who were but little interested in all this, 
waited impatiently for their turn to speak. The time, so pre- 
cious for them, was passing uselessly away, and they were longing 
to get to work. 



THE PATRIOT INN. 


255 


The conversation, however, soon flagged, and the company 
again separated into groups. Pierre decided to address the 
man who had welcomed them, and who was seated close by. 
He was one of the richest merchants in the town, and an ardent 
patriot. 

After a few words from Pierre, he said, — 

“ It will not be easy to put your hand on Benedict Arnold. 
His troops are encamped at Gloucester, on the left bank 
of the river, but he is seldom there. I think he is very busy 
just now trying to find out some means of escape, for he has 
more to fear than the others when the siege ends. If the 
Americans take him, he is lost.” 

“ I have not explained myself clearly enough,” said Pierre. 
“ It is not Arnold himself we want. We understand that he has 
shut up in a house in the neighbourhood a few prisoners, and 
these prisoners are our friends, and we want to get to them.” 

“ I can easily tell you where to look for them, then,’’ said the 
merchant. “ The house you mention is about three miles out of 
the town, on the border of the river, near a small farm of mine. 
Arnold, when he arrived here, rented it as a residence for an 
old man and his daughter, but I don’t know if these people are 
prisoners, for the house is not guarded. 1 never saw any 
sentries at the door.” 

“You are sure you are right?” said Pierre, whose voice 
trembled with joy and emotion. 

“ Quite sure,” replied the merchant. “ But I should not like 
to say that the house is not secretly watched, and I should 
advise you to be careful. The day will soon break. If you 
like, I myself will put you on the road you ought to take.” 


256 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


The merchant rose, and the young men having made their 
adieu to Ben, and appointed to meet him on the following after- 
noon, left the tavern in the company of their new friend. The 
first streaks of the dawn had barely appeared, and the streets 
were still deserted, as, without a single undesirable meeting, they 
traversed the town. Once out of the suburbs, they followed a 
footpath bordered with hedges, which took them towards 
the river, but before they reached it the merchant stopped and 
pointed to a small house whose outline was just visible in the 
morning mist. 

“ That,” said he, “ is the house you are looking for. I won’t 
go any farther with you, for I am too well known to do so with- 
out risk of compromising myself. Good-bye then, and may 
Heaven help you.” 

Thus left alone, the young men, instead of following the road, 
made their way across the fields to Arnold’s house. They had 
brought each a pistol, and as they walked they looked to see 
that their weapons were in good order, fully resolved to 
blow out the brains of any one who would attempt to bar their 
passage. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

CAUGHT IN THE TOILS. 

RRIVED at about a hundred yards from the 
house, Ralph and Pierre hid themselves in a 
small group of trees. Concealed amongst them 
they could carefully study the surroundings, and 
decide as to how they were to enter the place. 

The house was only separated from the river by the road on 




The garden walls were of good height. 


258 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


which it looked. It consisted of a ground floor, surmounted by 
a story capped by a pointed slate roof. Behind was a small 
garden, with the wall joining the sides of the house at a right 
angle, and these sides were plain gables without any opening. 
The garden walls were of good height, and only the tops of the 
fruit-trees beyond could be seen above them. 

This first examination rather ’disappointed our friends, who 
had expected to find the house unenclosed, as is generally the 
case in this country. 

Anyhow, they could not dream of scaling such high walls in 
broad daylight. In the first place the enterprise would be 
difficult , they would be seen as they got down into the garden, 
and they might be taken in a trap, with no possible means of 
escape. 

There remained then no other way of entering the house 
than by the door which opened on to the road ; but if that was 
kept shut, attacking in front would be awkward work. 

The two friends, before resorting to this, attempted to re- 
connoitre the enclosure on all its faces, and stealthily quitting 
the little wood, they made for the end of the garden opposite 
the river. As they reached it they both uttered an exclamation 
of delight. The architect, wishing doubtless to give a view 
of the country, had not built a wall on this side, and had 
been content to enclose the garden with a hedge, which 
joined the two side walls. Nothing could be easier than to 
get through this, and in case of surprise it would afford a line 
of retreat. 

Hidden behind the hedge, Ralph and Pierre could examine 
the garden and the house at their leisure. They remarked in 


CAUGHT IN THE TOILS., 


259 


the first place that the windows on the ground floor were 
closed, while those on the first floor had their shutters open. 

Where were the prisoners ? How many people were there in 
the house ? These were serious questions, and it was im- 
portant that they should be answered before they entered. 

While the two friends were communicating their thoughts 
to each other, a slight sound was heard, and the door of the 
house towards the garden opened. A girl carrying a small 
basket appeared on the threshold, and descending the flight of 
steps quietly walked down the narrow path which divided the 
garden. 

“ Heavens above ! ” murmured Pierre, in a voice stifled with 
emotion, “ it is my sister ! ” 

“ It is Eva ! ” said Ralph at the same moment. Don’t 
move,” added he ; “ hide yourself well, for if she sees us she 
will be afraid, and make some noise which will reveal our 
presence to our enemies.” 

Silent, but feeling their hearts bounding within them, the 
young men crouched by the hedge while Eva continued to 
advance. 

She was only a few steps from their hiding-place when she 
suddenly stooped, and began to collect the red fruits which 
garnished a bed of autumn strawberry-plants. 

While she was occupied in this charming task, the two 
friends tenderly watched her, and by their gestures asked each 
other if they had not better show themselves to her, or call to 
her. But they dared not. Who could tell what would be the 
effect that such emotion would produce on the delicate girl ? 

At last the basket was full. The girl slowly rose, but instead 


26 o 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


of going back to the house she remained motionless and pen- 
sive ; and soon her eyes, fixed on vacancy, were filled with 
tears, and then slowly the tears coursed down her face. 

This time it was almost more than Pierre could bear ; he 
would have thrown himself on his sister’s neck had not Ralph 
held him back. 

And now a window on the first floor opened, and a voice was 
heard gently calling, — 

“ Eva, my child ! the morning is chilly, and the dew is on 
the ground. Do not stop too long in the garden.” 

“ I am coming in, papa,” was the girl’s answer ; and stealthily 
drying her tears, she ran with a light step towards the house. 

“You saw who called her,” said Pierre. “ It was my grand- 
father, David Michaux.” 

“ I knew him,” said Ralph. “ We now know what part of the 
house they occupy. They seem to be alone just now ; we 
should take advantage of it — without being less prudent, though.’’ 

The two young men then carefully climbed the hedge, not 
without leaving some scraps of their clothes on the thorns. 
Once in the garden, they stole along beneath the trees which 
ornamented the foot of the wall, and reached the house. The 
door had been left wide open ; Eva had neglected to shut it 
behind her. 

For a moment the two friends remained motionless, and 
listening. All was silent around them. On the floor above 
there was audible a confused murmuring of voices, due no 
doubt to the conversation of the prisoners. 

Satisfied at what they saw and heard, they had entered and 
began to ascend the staircase, when Ralph stopped. 


CA UGHT IN THE TOILS, 


261 


“ I will go up alone,” he said to Pierre. “ Your relatives think 
you are dead, or at least far away from here in the English 
army. It is better that I prepare them to receive you.” 

“You are right,” said Pierre. And he stopped while Ralph 
lightly stepped up the stairs. 

When he reached the landing, the drummer found himself in 
front of two doors without knowing which to enter, until he 
heard on the left the voice of David Michaux, saying, — 

“ My poor Eva, you have been crying again this morning. 
It is useless for you to hide your tears from me ; your red eyes 
betray you, and I know, alas ! you have too many reasons to 
be sorrowful.” 

“ Oh ! dear papa ! ” answered the girl in a voice choked with 
sobs, “forgive me ! But I am afraid, dreadfully afraid, always 
afraid, of that villainous man who keeps us shut up here, and 
who will carry out his threat. Why don’t you run away ? ” 

“You know it is not possible to do so, Eva,” said the grand 
father ; “ and besides, the scoundrel dare not.” 

At this moment Ralph knocked gently at the door, and 
immediately the old man’s voice roughly replied from the 
inside, — 

“ Come in.” 

The young Frenchman opened the door, and saw David 
seated in an arm-chair near the window. Eva had dis- 
appeared. 

Doubtless the old man expected some importunate guest, for 
as he heard Ralph’s footstep he did not even deign to turn his 
head. 

The young man advanced, and stood motionless and silent 


262 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


before him. David, restraining himself no longer, turned round 
angrily and with eyebrows knit ; but perceiving in place of the 
man he hated, the open countenance of his young friend, 
profound surprise, genuine stupefaction, appeared on his face, 
and he could only stammer, — 

“ What ! is it you ? You here.? What have you come to do 
in this abominable prison ? ” 

“To save you if possible,” replied Ralph quietly. 

But already, without waiting for a reply, the old man had 
risen and clasped him in his arms. 

“ I do not know what brought you here,” said he at length, 
“ but the sight of you rejoices my heart, for I love you as my 
own son.” 

And turning towards the adjoining room, the door of which 
remained half open,— 

“ Eva,” cried he, “ come here quickly ; here is our friend 
Ralph.” 

The girl ran in, and blushingly shook hands. 

“ But now,” continued the old man, “ explain how you came 
here, and what you are going to do.” 

“ You will know immediately,” said Ralph. “ But I must 
first give you some news which I am sure will cause you great 
happiness, and which I must not delay to communicate. I 
learnt some time ago that your grandson Pierre is alive and 
well. He succeeded in leaving the English army — ” 

“ Pierre is alive ! ” exclaimed Eva. “ Oh, thanks for that 
news ! it will help me to bear up under all our misfortunes.” 

“ He is living, and away from the clutches of the redcoats ! 
said the old man. “ But where is he now ? What is he doing ? 


CAUGHT IN THE TOILS. 


263 


Speak, I pray you, for I think I can guess, and I am afraid the 
happiness I suspect will be too much for me.” 

“ Pierre is in the American militia,” answered Ralph. 

“ But then he is perhaps before Yorktown,” replied David. 
“ Oh ! I must see him once again before I die.” 

At this moment the door suddenly opened, and Pierre rushed 
in, and threw himself into the old man’s arms, saying, — 

“ Here I am, and thank Heaven you need talk of death no 
more ! ” 

Eva sprang towards him, and covered her brother with tears 
and kisses. 

After leaving his friends to give themselves over for a few 
minutes to their endearments, Ralph, remembering how the 
precious time was passing, ventured to say, — 

“ Pardon me, my friends, but we must make haste and get 
out of here without delay. Let us take advantage of the 
absence of your gaolers, and escape.” 

The words recalled them to the reality of their situation. 

Pierre then explained to his grandfather how they had got 
into Yorktown, and how they intended to regain the Franco- 
American camp. 

“I have appointed to meet Ben,” said he, “at four o’clock. 
He will wait for us. Make haste to get away, and this evening 
we shall all be safe from Arnold’s menaces.” 

“ My dear child,” said David, “ what you propose is impos- 
sible. Better than any man living I know the Great Swamp. I 
have crossed it in every direction hundreds of times, and I will 
not expose Eva to such dangers while another hope of safety 
remains.” 


264 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“ But you know with what fate Arnold threatens you ? ” said 
Pierre. 

“ I know, but I also know that while I remain in this house 
Arnold dare not touch me. If he makes a single movement to 
carry out his threat, I will strangle him with this hand.” 

And as he spoke he stretched out his large hand, hardened 
by its grip of the hatchet-haft, with its fingers knotted as the 
branches of the oak. 

‘‘As for shooting us,” continued he, “ the scoundrel dare not 
do it ; for Lord Cornwallis is a gentleman, and a brave man 
and he would not tolerate such a crime. While if Arnold were 
to surprise us away from here, he would kill us like dogs, and 
he would have a right to do so. Go, my boys ; return to the 
French camp, and do your duty. When the town is taken, and 
that will not be long hence, I shall be glad to take you again to 
my arms. I will wait for that moment with patience, and I will 
submit to my captivity without complaint, since God has given 
me back my son.” 

Ralph and Pierre were uniting in their entreaties to persuade 
the old man to follow them, when a horse’s gallop was heard 
without. 

. David ran to the window looking on to the road, and 
exclaimed, “Gracious Heaven, it is Arnold ! The joy of 
seeing you made me forget that the villain would be here this 
morning. In a minute he will be here. There is no time for 
you to fly. Go with Eva into the next room, and whatever 
happens do not show yourselves, or you will be lost.” 

The young men, without a moment’s thought, obeyed, and 
shut themselves in the room. 



Flicking the furniture with the whip in his hand. 


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CAUGHT IN THE TOILS. 


265 


They had scarcely disappeared, when the door from the 
staircase opened, and Arnold entered. 

With a hasty gesture he threw his gold-laced hat on to the 
table, and placing himself before the impassible old man, said 
to him in a haughty tone, — 

“ Well, David, the moment has come. To-morrow perhaps, 
by the mad infatuation of that imbecile Cornwallis, Yorktown 
will be lost, and I, more mad than he, shall be taken in the net 
which has been laid for me by that serpent Washington. Yes, 
triple fool that I am to have come and stupidly shut myself up 
in this fox-trap.’' And as he spoke he strode up and down the 
room, flicking the furniture with the whip he held in his hand. 

But listen, David,” continued he; “you must find the means 
of getting me out of here, or you will never go out of this house 
alive.” 

“What can I do to save you ?” replied the old man. “ It is 
not my business. You yourself got into the hornets’ nest ; you 
must get out of it as well as you can.” 

“ Look here, David,” said Arnold, endeavouring to give his 
harsh voice an insinuating tone ; “ I’ll never believe that you 
cannot get out of here if you like. No one knows the Great 
Swamp like you.” 

“ I have already told you why I do not care to cross the 
swamp,” said the old man. 

“ Well ! your daughter will remain here, and after taking me to 
the other bank, you are free to return to her and quietly wait for 
the end, for I alone know this house.” 

“ Go,” said the old man obstinately. ‘ I will wait here as 
quietly as you.” 


266 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


“ Once more,” said Arnold, “ I repeat that if you refuse, you 
sign your death-warrant.” 

“Take care yourself,” answered David, raising his voice, 
“ that you go out of this house alive. I know you make your 
visits here as mysterious as you can, and if you disappear, no 
one will come to look for you.” 

Arnold grew pallid with anger. 

“ Ah ! you threaten me,” hissed he. “ Well, be it as you will.” 

And snatching a pistol from his belt, he pointed it at David ; 
but as he pulled the trigger some one’s hand struck up his arm, 
and the bullet, turned from its course, passed into the ceiling. 

“ Treason ! ” exclaimed Arnold, as he saw appear before him 
Pierre, who coming out of the room had arrived in time to save 
his grandfather’s life. 

But already the traitor had jumped back and put his hand on 
his sword, and then he found himself clasped in the iron 
embrace of the drummer. 

In the twinkling of an eye" Ralph and Pierre had disarmed 
him, and untying the silk sash round his belt, they pinioned his 
hands as though he were a criminal. 

For a few minutes the villain, crushed and confounded by the 
rapidity of the attack, remained in gloomy silence. But soon 
all his energy returned to him, and in a firm, ironical voice he 
said, — 

“ Really, gentlemen, I congratulate you. This is what we 
might call a well-planned ambuscade.” 

Then recognizing Ralph, — 

“ But,” said he, “ if I mistake not, we are old acquaintances. 
It appears that the rope they used was of inferior quality.’’ 


CA UGHT IN THE TOILS. 


26; 


“Our provost,” answered the young Frenchman, “will 
certainly find a better one for your use.” 

“ Will you do me the honour,” continued Arnold, “ to tell me 
what you intend doing with me 1 I do not suppose, in spite of 
the high position you hold in the American army, that you con- 
sider yourselves equal to forming the court-martial which is to 
sit upon one of his Britannic Majesty’s brigadiers.” 

“We have the right,” answered Ralph, “to kill you like a 
dog, and bury you under a tree in the garden, but we are not 
assassins.” 

The wretched man became livid. 

“ No,” added Pierre ; “and we should be grieved to rob the 
gibbet of its due. We American volunteers have resolved that 
if ever you fall into our hands, we will cut off your right leg, 
which received a glorious wound in the fight at Behmus, and 
give that heroic member a pompous funeral, while you your- 
self shall hang high as a vile malefactor. That is the fate 
which awaits you, and which you cannot escape.” 

“Meanwhile,” continued Ralph, “we are going to leave you 
here in charge of our friend David. He will take care that we 
are able to hand you over to judgment.” 

Arnold was completely subdued. 

“ Gentlemen,” said he in a humble voice, “ I know I am very 
guilty, but you are young, and hate can hardly yet have 
hardened your hearts. I am rich, and I have about me a 
considerable sum of money which I will give you, if you set me 
free.” 

“The money of Judas,” said Ralph with scorn. “Thanks. 
It would soil our hands.” 


268 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


Tn vain the villain begged and prayed ; his captors were in- 
exorable. After strapping him still closer, they took him down 
into one of the narrow cellars of the house, and, shutting him 
up therein, left him in charge of the old man. 

Then they went to Arnold’s horse, which remained fastened 
to the doorpost, and set him free, starting him off with several 
vigorous cuts from the whip. The animal at full gallop took 
the road to the English cavalry barracks. 

In this way the day passed, and at length, after bidding good- 
bye to David and Eva, the young men retook the road to where 
Ben Gilmour was waiting fcr them. 





CHAPTER XXIX. 


THE CAPTURE OF THE REDOUBT. 


pHILE chance was delivering over their terrible 
enemy to Pierre and Ralph, the generals of the 
Franco-American army were preparing to storm 
the outer line of the Yorktown defences. 

In the council of war held on October 14, 1781, it was 
decided that the Americans under the command of the 




The men had already mustered in the deep trench. 


270 


THE DRUMJHER-BOV, 


Marquis de la Fayette should attack the nearest English posts 
on the York River, while the French under the orders of Baron 
de Viomenil should assault the great redoubt which covered the 
front of the town. A few hours before, Count Rochambeau had 
ascertained that the breach made by the Pigeon Hill battery was 
large enough, and in a fit state to be stormed that very evening. 

At the close of the council of war, while the Marquis de la 
Fayette was rejoining his post in all haste, De Viomenil drew 
up his dispositions for the coming attack. He resolved to 
confide the operation to a picked detachment formed of 400 
grenadiers and light infantry, taken in equal numbers from the 
Royal Auvergne and the Deux Fonts, and commanded by the 
Marquis Guillaume de Deux Fonts and Baron de I’Estrade. 

The two colonels were themselves charged with the selection 
of their coolest and most determined men, for it was obvious 
that on the success of this serious attempt depended in a 
great measure the result of the siege. If the redoubt was 
carried, the English would have no other resource than the 
works of the place ; in the contrary event, the besiegers would 
lose the principal object of their endeavours. 

The men forming this forlorn hope were ordered to muster at 
nightfall in the advanced trench to await the signal. 

The day had run its course, and the sun was already slowly 
sinking into the horizon, gilding the crests of the batteries with 
its rays. Baron de I’Estrade was passing through the camp to 
assure himself that the preparations had been completed as he 
had ordered. On his round he encountered La Ramdei 

“ At the usual hour you will beat the ‘ lights out,’ ” said he. 
“ If nothing is changed, the enemy will suspect nothing. You 


THE CAPTURE OF THE REDOUBT, 


271 


will accompany us with your best men ; the drummers will be of 
use until the last moment.” 

He was moving off, when he stopped. 

“ Ah ! ” said he, “ I forgot to ask you to bring Corporal 
Haudry with you. The brave fellow would not like to be left 
behind, for I promised he should see the fun.’' 

“ Very good, colonel,” answered La Ramee. 

However, this order, which he had been thinking of since the 
morning, made him uneasy, and while the colonel resumed his 
tour of inspection. La Ramde murmured, “That is about 
enough. The youngster has deceived me, for if the colonel 
really knew he was in Yorktown, he would not have told me to 
bring him with me. This time I don’t know how he can escape 
the court-martial. To desert before the enemy, and on the day 
of battle ! ” 

In fact the sun was now touching the horizon ; in a few 
minutes the twenty-four hours’ leave would expire. And Ralph 
had not returned. 

According to the instructions of the Baron, La Ramee, full 
at heart, assembled the drummers to beat the retreat through 
the camp as he did every night, only this time, instead of 
regaining their tents as the enemy supposed, the men of the 
picked detachment would at the signal muster at the rallying- 
point. 

Drawn up in line the drummers were waiting. La Ramde, 
thoughtful and preoccupied, delayed to give the fatal signal 
which would be in one way the death-warrant of his young 
friend. Then heaving a profound sigh, he turned towards his men 
and brandished his cane. Immediately the roll resounded, but 


272 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


the good sergeant almost fell backwards with astonishment. 
There in the front rank with his drum at his knee, hard at 
work with the sticks, stood Ralph, as 
calm and collected as if he had never 
left the colonel’s tent. The brave drum- 
major thought at first he was the sport of 
some illusion ; but no, he whom bethought 
was far away was there in front of him, 
and taking his share of the ‘‘ran, plan, 
plan, plan” of his comrades ! 

When the “ retreat ” had been sounded 
through the camp of the Royal Auvergne, 
La Ram^e dismissed his men, except 
those who were to accompany him, and 
with whom in all haste he took his way 
to the trench. “Rascal,” he said in a low voice to Ralph, 
who marched by his side, “ you can boast that vou frightened 
me.” 

“ You thought I should not get back,” answered the young 
man. ‘‘And you had good cause; I was afraid so too. The 
return was not so easy as the going. It was broad daylight 
when we entered the Great Swamp on our way back, and the 
English sentries caught sight of us, and came in chase, and for 
a quarter of an hour we had to paddle about in the mud, with 
the bullets whistling past our ears. However, we arrived safe 
and sound on this side. But here we ran up against a picket 
of Lauzun hussars attracted by the noise, The officer, a little 
suspicious, took us off to the provost, and without old Ben’s 
safe conduct we should have been detained till later. Once I 



THE CAPTURE OF THE REDOUBT, 


273 


was free, I came off at the run, arrived here just as* the night 
closed in, hurried on my uniform, and here I am ” 

“ All that is very well, but it might have had a bad ending,” 
answered La Ram^e sententiously. “You must tell me your 
adventures to-morrow, if I am here to hear them, for I have an 
idea we shall have a warm night of it.” 

“ Where are we going then ? ” asked Ralph. 

“To take from the English that big black machine full of 
cannons that you see over there : but hush ! enough said ; we 
are in the trench, our friends are waiting.” 

In fact the men had already mustered in the deep ditch 
which formed the second parallel, at less than 800 yards from 
the English redoubt. 

Guillaume de Deux Fonts and the Baron de I’Estrade, aided 
by their officers, among whom were Captains Sireuil and De 
Berthelot and the staff officers Charles de Lameth and Damas, 
were arranging their companies in the order of attack, and giving 
their final instructions. 

Count Rochambeau had just arrived in the trench, having 
come to see if all the arrangements had been made. 

As he passed he said to the men, — 

“ My lads, if I have need of you to-night, I hope you have not 
forgotten that we have served together in your brave regiment 
of Auvergne, to call it by the honourable title which it has borne 
since its formation.” 

Whereupon one of the sergeants stepped from the ranks, and 
said to him, — 

“ General, we will all willingly get killed for you, if you will 
promise to allow our regiment definitely and officially to bear 


274 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


the name of the Royal Auvergne, which has always been given 
us, and of which we are all proud.” 

‘‘ Well, my lads, I promise,” said Rochambeau, “ on condition 
that under ‘ Royal Auvergne ’ on your colours we can put ‘ 14 
October, 1781, capture of the Yorktown redoubt.’” 

It was now eleven o’clock. The night was pitch dark. Sud- 
denly the battery on Pigeon Hill seemed to wake up, and six 
bombs one after the other sped from it into the English 
redoubt. It was the signal of attack. 

Immediately the storming party emerged from the trench. 

In front marched two sergeants of sappers, Foret and Le 
Comet, heading eight carpenters and a hundred men carrying 
fascines, ladders, and axes. The soldiers of the Royal Auvergne 
divided into two parties of grenadiers and light infantry, 
followed preceded by the Baron de I’Estrade and Charles de 
Lameth. Guillaume de Deux Fonts brought up the rear with 
the men of his regiment, and a few light infantry of the 
Bourbonnais and Agenais. 

At the moment of leaving the trench, the Baron de Viomenil, 
who had the command of the attack, had said to the men, — 

“Above all things, my lads, not a word, not a shot, 
till you are in the enemy’s entrenchments, and there, only 
when the drums beat, march forward and show the English how 
you can use the bayonet.” 

And so the little column silently advanced, carefully smother- 
ing the noise of their footsteps, and checking the jingling of 
their weapons and accoutrements. 

Thanks to the profound darkness, they reached the first 
entrenchments without giving the enemy the alarm. But then 


THE CAPTURE OF THE REDOUBT. 


275 


they found that the garrison of the redoubt had during the even- 
ing carefully replaced the palisades which protected the edge 
of the glacis, which they thought had been destroyed. 

Without hesitation the sappers, hatchet in hand, vigorously 
attacked the stakes of the palisade. 

At the first sound, a sentry of the Hessian regiment in the 
English service who held the redoubt innocently shouted into 
the night “ Wer da ? ” 

No response was made by the sappers, who redoubled their 
efforts, and the brave German, convinced at last that he had to 
deal with an enemy, fired his musket. Immediately the 
escarpments of the redoubt were crowded 
with defenders, and a rain of bullets 
poured on to the French, fortunately 
doing little damage. Soon the palisade 
was down for a sufficient distance, and, 
advancing through the passage, the sap- 
pers threw their fascines, which quickly 
filled the ditch up to the level of the 
breach that the French artillery had for 
many days been making in the cur- 
tain. 

The solemn moment had arrived. 
The fosse was full. The sappers re- 
tire 1, and allowed the soldiers to see before them the road 
they were to go, and above them on the parapet the Ger- 
man mercenaries with their muskets loaded and at the 
ready. 

The Baion de i’Estrade drew his sword. Immediately the 



276 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


drummers beat the charge, and every man rushed forwards, 
anxious to be the first to mount the slope. 

The enemy allowed the French to descend the fosse, but 
when they had reached the shaking platform of fascines a 
terrible volley roared down on them — but it did not stop the 
advance. 

Charles de Lameth was the victor in this race of heroes. 
Younger and more active than the Baron de I’Estrade, he 
reached the parapet first, but as he turned to cheer on the men 
two bullets struck him on the knee. The Baron de I’Estrade, 
notwithstanding his age, gained the summit as he fell. The 
second to come, he had just set foot on the parapet, when 
Sergeant La Fortune, hit by a bullet, clutched at him, and 
dragged him into the ditch. 

Bloodstained and contused by the fall, the brave colonel 
arose, and again scaled the rolling fragments of the breach 
but his men were now before him, and had already entered the 
redoubt. 

Upright on the parapet, calm and proud in the midst of the 
terrible fusillade, Ralph Haudry beat the charge for the Royal 
Auvergne. 

Around him the battle now raged. The Germans, driven 
back, took shelter behind the casks and gabions ; behind these 
improvised entrenchments they kept up an incessant fire on the 
French, who, disdaining to load, pursued them with the 
bayonet up to their barricade. On all sides regular hand-to- 
hand combats were being fought between the desperate de- 
fenders and assailants. From the position he stood in, Ralph 
could see all the fight, which was now lit up by the red glare 


THE CAPTURE OF THE REDOUBT. 


277 


of the flames that had arisen in the fascines of the barri- 
cades. 

In the farthest angle of the redoubt he seemed to see a 
small group of Frenchmen surrounded by a superior number of 
Germans. How could he get to their assistance? To run to 
their aid alone and unarmed was to run to certain death. But 
Ralph did not hesitate. He advanced and beat the charge 
towards this angle of the redoubt. 

Hearing the sound of the drum, the Germans recoiled for an 
instant, thinking doubtless that the French were arriving in 
force. Of the little group they had surrounded only one 
remained standing. 

Ralph ran on, and found himself face to face with Captain 
Sireuil, who, with dripping sword in hand, stood erect in the 
centre of a circle of dead and wounded. But already the 
Hessians, divining the stratagem, returned to the attack. 

“ They are coming back, captain,” shouted Ralph ; get 
away quickly.” 

“ Impossible, my lad,” answered Sireuil in a hoarse voice. 
“ My chest is run clean through, and I shall not go far, but I 
don’t intend them to take me alive. Save yourself ; never mind 
me.” 

“ I remain where you are, captain,” said Ralph quietly. “ Keep 
them off for a moment or so, and I will call our comrades.” 

And he began to beat the “rally,” while Captain Sireuil 
tried to keep the Germans at a distance with his sword. 

Fortunately some soldiers of the Royal Auvergne recognized 
the drum of their regiment, and came up, but they arrived too 
late, for as he saw them the brave captain dropped his weapon, 


278 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


and fell covered with blood at the feet of his valorous com- 
panion. 

At the moment a huge cry of “ Vive le Roi ! ” reached them. 
It was the French saluting the white flag, which was just 
mounting on the redoubt while the English laid down their 
arms. 

At the sound Sireuil raised himself up, and holding out 
his hand to Ralph, “ Help me to stand,” murmured he, “that 
before I die I may salute our victory.” 

And when, held up by Ralph and one of the soldiers, he 
stood erect, he slowly lifted his three-cornered hat, and shouted 
with his last breath, — 

“ Vive la France ! ” 




CHAPTER XXX. 

CONFIDENCES. 

HE capture of the great redoubt ofYorktown cost 
the French troops very dear. The storming party 
on this memorable night lost nearly half their mus- 
ter. One hundred and eighty-six men had fallen 
beneath the bullets of the enemy, and of this number fifty-two 
were killed ; a very high proportion, which proved how long 
and desperate had been the struggle. 




A flash like lightning made me close my eyes. 



28 o 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


The officers had exposed themselves gallantly, and the 
Royal Auvergne lost two of its best captains, Sireuil and De 
Berthelot. Amongst the wounded were the Marquis Guillaume 
de Deux Fonts and the intrepid Charles de Lameth, who by a 
lucky chance retained his leg, notwithstanding its terrible 
injuries. As to the Baron de PEstrade, he escaped from this 
sanguinary struggle without a wound, although not safe and 
sound, for his fall into the fosse had left him covered with 
contusions. 

But none thought that they had paid too dearly for the 
result. This night of the 14th of October was a terrible one for 
Cornwallis ; for while the French carried the redoubt covering 
the front of Yorktown, the Americans under La Fayette, 
assisted by the Touraine regiment, drove the English from all 
their works on the north-west along the York River. There 
only remained to the enemy the body of the place, and a few 
advanced works of trifling importance. If Clinton did not 
arrive shortly, Cornwallis would be reduced to the last 
extremity. 

Washington at once informed Congress of his double success 
and told them of his approaching triumph. He wrote in these 
words to the president of the federal assembly : — 

“ I have the pleasure to inform your Excellency that we have 
succeeded on both sides. Nothing could surpass the firmness 
and bravery of our troops. They advanced under the e.nemy’s 
fire without replying, and did their work with the bayonet 
alone.” 

The soldiers of the Royal Auvergne had faithfully kept their 
word. If they had not all died, they had — to quote the very 


CONFIDENCES. 


281 


words of the general-in-chief — “ charged like lions, and left on 
the ground a third of the numbers engaged ; ” and Count Rocham- 
beau, according to his promise, put in the order of the day for 
the morrow that the name of Royal Auvergne would for the 
future be officially conferred on the Gatinais regiment, subject 
to the approval of his Majestythe King. This news gave the 
finishing touch to the delight of these gallant soldiers, and, 
during the whole of that day, the 15th of October, the camp kept 
holiday. La Ramde and Ralph, sharing in every way in the 
satisfaction of their comrades, were above all things happy to 
find themselves unscathed after the terrible adventures of the 
two last nights. Seated in their tent, they fought the fight over 
again, sparing a few words of regret for those who had fallen. 

“ I shall remember the passage of that terrible ditch for the 
rest of my life,” said Ralph. “ Scarcely had the colonel given the 
signal, than I did as the others did, and jumped away, beating 
the charge as well as I could. The fascines shook beneath us as 
we ran, and we had just reached the middle when a flash like 
lightning made me close my eyes, and shot along the rampart 
in front of us. With a fearful roar we were covered with a 
hail of iron and fire. When 1 opened my eyes a moment 
afterwards, the colonel was on ahead scaling the breach. The 
men pressed on so that I was thrust a little behind, but when I 
reached the parapet I was astonished to find myself for an 
instant alone. The colonel had disappeared—” 

“ I know,” interrupted La Ramde. “ I just missed catching 
him on the top of my head. I was coming on, shaking away on 
the fascines, pushed and bustled about, and helping myself 
along with the cane, and just going up the slope, when I saw 


282 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


two fellows coming down on me post-haste. Before I had time 
to get out of the way, they sent me rolling with them on to the 
fascines. Luck threw me underneath, and I had them both on 
my back. I began to move, and then I felt one of them get up, 
and I recognized the voice of the colonel, who said to his 
companion, ‘ You clumsy idiot ! ^ But the idiot said nothing, and 
as he did not move, I got from under him. I was just going 
to swear at him, when what was my astonishment to find that 
it was lanky La Fortune stretched there dead, with a bullet-hole 
between his eyes ! ’’ 

“ Poor fellow ! ” said Ralph. “ He was a bad man, but a brave 
soldier, and his glorious death ought to condone some of his 
faults. But amongst all those who have gone, there is none I 
regret more than Captain Sireuil.” 

“ Ah ! yes,” said La Ramde, “ and they will not replace him 
in the regiment for a long time. After Baron de TEstrade, he 
was the officer we liked best, and the one who took most care for 
our well-being. It appears that when he was half dead he had 
himself held up that he might shout ‘ Vive le Roi ! ’ ” 

“No,’’ interrupted Ralph, “it was ‘Vive la France!’ that 
Captain Sireuil said.” 

It is the same thing,” said the sergeant. 

“ I do not think so,” replied the young man. “ However good 
our king may be, he is only a man ; and France, our mother, our 
country, ought to occupy the first place in our hearts,” 

“ I see what it is,” said La Ram^e ; “ you are becoming an 
American.” 

“ American if you like,” answered Ralph with a smile ; “ that 
does not hinder me from faithfully serving France and the king.” 


CONFIDENCES. 


283 


** I don’t doubt that at all,” said the sergeant ; “ but with all 
that you have not told me what you were doing the other day in 
Yorktown.” 

“ I have no secrets from you,” said the drummer, for I can 
rely on your discretion, and in this case more than ever I must 
ask you to be dumb about what I am going to tell you.” 

Ralph then gave his friend the account of the adventures 
which had distinguished his dangerous enterprise, from his 
crossing the Great Swamp until Arnold had fallen into the net 
which chance had spread for him. 

“ Then Mr. Arnold remains in Grandfather David’s cellar ? ” 
said La Ramde, much astonished, as he heard the end of the 
narrative. 

“ Assuredly,” said Ralph ; “ and my friend the wood-cutter is 
not the man to let him out without permission.’’ 

“But what are you going to do with him?” asked the 
sergeant. 

“That is a secret which does not belong to me alone,” said 
the young man. “ The future will tell you the fate we have in 
store for the triple traitor.” 

The two friends were still chatting, when an orderly came up 
to tell Corporal Haudry to go to the colonel. The drummer 
hastened to obey the order. 

“ My dear lad,” said the Baron de I’Estrade as he saw him 
enter, “ by desire of Count Rochambeau, I have just drawn 
up a list of the soldiers and officers of my regiment who have 
particularly distinguished themselves in our attack on the great 
redoubt. I may tell you that you hold an honourable place 
on that list. I know what you did last night, with what 


284 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


courage and presence of mind you beat the charge on the 
parapet, while our men, for a moment disconcerted by the mur- 
derous fire, w'avered at the foot of the breach. I know also that 
it is not your fault that the greatly regretted Captain Sireuil 
was not rescued in time. In every way I congratulate you 
sincerely, and I am proud to have near me one who to so 
noble a courage adds a delicacy of feeling that I can appre- 
ciate. But you see I am in a difficulty. Count Rochambeau 
asked me to state the recompense I wish to obtain for each 
of the men I put in my report. What am I to ask for 
you?” 

“ Really I do not know, colonel,” murmured Ralph. 

“Your embarrassment is as great as mine, I see,” said Baron 
de I’Estrade. “ But the moment has come for you to speak to 
me with entire frankness. If you are really what you pretend 
to be, the laws of our army will condemn you to slowly pass 
through the non-commissioned grades, and perhaps after long 
service you may become sergeant-major ; while, after all you 
have done at Newport and here, the favour of Count Rocham- 
beau can at a single stroke abolish these various steps, if your 
education and your birth allow it. Now in the first place I 
think I remember that you were educated at the royal abbey of 
Pontlevoy ; in the second your secret belongs to you, but I 
cannot see why you should persist in keeping it from a man 
who esteems and likes you as I do. You were humble and 
obscure, and it pleased you to conceal the name or the title that 
is yours ; but now your duty is to assume it again, for you have 
given it new lustre.” 

“ Then, sir, if you wish it, I will tell you the title I have con- 


CONFIDENCES- 


285 


cealed so far, not through a feeling of false pride, but because 
in my poverty I was afraid I would disgrace it in my 
difficult circumstances. My father was a gentleman, and he 
was Baron Haudry de la Charmoise.” Then Ralph, carried 
away by a confidential impulse, related to the colonel all 
that our readers have been told in the early part of this 
history. 

“ I from the first saw that you were not a simple 
rustic,’^ said the colonel when he had finished. “ Will you 
now allow me to use the secret you have just confided to 
me 1 ” 

‘‘You can act as you please, sir,’’ answered the young 
man. “ I know that the honour of my family is in good 
hands.” 

Night had come on during the interview, and an orderly 
now entered with a lighted torch, which he placed on the 
table. 

“ Well,” said the colonel, “ I must finish my report. While I 
am doing so, take a pen, and make a copy of those states 
which have been sent in to me by the captains.” 

Ralph, who frequently did secretarial work for the colonel, 
immediately began. At the end of an hour he had finished his 
copies, and was taking leave of his chief, when the precipitate 
gallop of a horse was heard, and the rider stopped at the 
tent. 

A moment afterwards De Damas, Rochambeau’s aide-de- 
camp, entered hurriedly, and exclaimed, “ The Royal Auvergne 
is to get under arms immediately. Baron de I’Estrade, the 
English have retaken the great redoubt.” 


286 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


Ralph, at the colonel’s order, ran to wake the drummers, and 
in a second or two they were in their turn calling to the men. 
Soon, notwithstanding their fatigue, the grenadiers and light 
infantry turned out, and departed at the double towards the 
town. 

The Agenais and Soissonnais battalions which had been 
left in charge of the redoubt had allowed themselves to be 
surprised. 

Persuaded that the English were in such consternation at 
their defeat that they would only think of capitulation, De 
Chastellux, who was in command, had taken hardly any pre- 
cautions. He had just posted a few sentinels, and the 
soldiers were still asleep when the enemy broke into the 
redoubt. 

The Agenais and Soissonnais, however, fought determinedly, 
in spite of the surprise of which they were the victims. Though 
at the first onset Captain de Beurguissont had fallen into the 
enemy’s hands, and seven of the guns of the battery opened in 
the morning, had been captured and spiked, the gallant soldiers 
still held half the redoubt. 

The arrival of the Royal Auvergne completely changed the 
aspect of affairs. In their turn the English and their German 
mercenaries had to give way, and for the second time, after a 
short but bloody encounter, the redoubt was cleared by the 
French. 

“ This time, my boys,” said the Baron de I’Estrade, “ we will 
look after it ourselves.” 

“ So much the better,” whispered La Ramde in Ralph’s ear ; 


CONFIDENCES. 


287 


“ but in that case I don’t see when it will be our turn to 
sleep.” 

“ Do you not know the proverb ? ” said the corporal philoso- 
ohically, “ ‘ You should never sleep after a victory.’” 






CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE SURRENDER OF YORKTOWN. 

HE failure of the desperate atterhpt of the Eng- 
lish to retake the redoubt showed Cornwallis 
how powerless he was. Henceforth he felt him- 
self lost. Clinton had abandoned him, and there 
only remained for him to capitulate, or to entomb himself 
beneath the ruins of the citadel confided to his charge. 



The English marched past with drums beating. 



THE SURRENDER OF YORKTOWN. 289 


But heroic resolutions were repugnant to the noble lord’s 
placidity. To prolong his resistance seemed to him a waste of 
precious 'blood. He resolved, therefore, while there was yet 
time, to treat with the enemy. 

On the morning of the 17th of October he called together his 
officers, and said to them,— 

“Gentlemen, in spite of all our efforts, and through the incon- 
ceivable abandonment of us by Sir Henry Clinton, we are reduced 
to the last extremity. It is now evident that in this place, with- 
out serious defences, we shall not be able to hold out for long 
against the powerful army which envelopes us. The moment 
has come for us to ask of our foe a capitulation, which our long 
resistance will render honourable. However, before taking so 
grave a resolution, I have called you here to ask your advice 
Let each of you speak in his turn.” 

“ My Lord,” said General O’Hara, who commanded the 
garrison of Yorktown, “ our situation can be summed up in 
these words— our arsenal and magazines are empty, our 
hospitals are full. If we can reckon on the devotion of our 
English and Scotch troops, we cannot do so on that of the 
German mercenaries, who are completly demoralized since 
the last engagement, and would not stand a regular assault. 
I vote for capitulation.” 

“ Our position is hardly better on the left bank of York 
River,” said Colonel Tarleton, commanding the advanced posts 
at Gloucester. 

“ I might try and cut a passage through with my cavalry, 
but even if we succeeded, I don’t think it would mend our 
general situation. An honourable capitulation, which the enemy 


290 


THE DRUMMER.BOY. 


could hardly fail to give us, seems to me the only possible 
solution.’^ 

“ I am of the same opinion as my colleagues,” said Rear- 
Admiral Symonds. “ My ships are blockaded in the river, and 
since the loss of the Charon, I cannot force the Comte de. 
Grasse’s line.” 

How is it that General Arnold is not here?” asked Corn- 
wallis at this moment. “ I should very much like to have 
heard what he had to say on the subject.” 

“ My Lord,” said Tarleton, “ he has not been seen 
in the camp for the last three days. In the afternoon of the 
14th his horse came into barracks without his rider. We con- 
cluded that General Arnold had fallen into an ambuscade — ” 

“ Or rather,” added Cornwallis sarcastically, “ that he had 
gone as he came. Having embraced our 
cause when it seemed triumphant, he 
deserted when fortune ceased to smile on 
it. That is what you might expect. A 
renegade, gentlemen, is of no good to any 
party.” 

None of those present said a word in 
defence of the absent general. 

“ Well, gentlemen,” added Cornwallis, 
“ we will send and ask General Washing- 
ton what are his conditions,” 

It was noon when the English envoy 
appeared at the American headquarters. 

“ You come in time,” said Washington, and he led him to 
the door of his tent, whence he could see the trenches full of 



THE SURRENDER OF YORK TOWN 


291 


soldiers. “You see,” he added, “our columns preparing for 
the assault. In a few hours Yorktown would have been in our 
power.” 

“ Believe me, sir,” said the Englishman boldly, “you would 
not find it so easy as you think. If the walls of Yorktown are 
weak, there are soldiers’ strong hearts behind them, which your 
men would have some difficulty in conquering.” 

“And what does Lord Cornwallis ask?” said Washington. 

“ He is ready to consider what propositions you can make 
for an honourable capitulation.” 

“ It is well, sir,” said the American generalissimo. “ I will 
nominate delegates to discuss my conditions with Lord Corn- 
wallis ; but if the preliminaries are not concluded in twenty- 
four hours, I will commence firing, and storm the town.” 

That very day the Vicomte de Noailles and M. de Grou- 
chain, representing one the army and the other the navy of the 
French, and Colonel Laurens of the American militia, put them- 
selves in communication with the English delegates to agree 
on the details of the surrender. 

Lord Cornwallis demanded the honours of war, that is to say, 
the right of the garrison to march out of Yorktown with drums 
beating and colours flying. Washington would have acceded 
to this demand, but La Fayette insisted that the English army 
should submit to the treatment previously inflicted on the 
American garrison of Charleston, who were forbidden to 
fly their colours. 

The vanquished were obliged to accept this humiliation, and 
the preliminaries having been concluded, the capitulation was 
signed at noon on the 19th of October, by Lord Cornwallis 


292 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


and Admiral Symonds on the one part, and George 
Washington, Rochambeau, and the Comte de Grasse on 
the other. 

An hour afterwards a Franco- American detachment occupied 
the fortifications of Yorktown and the advanced posts at Glou- 
cester. 

When this operation was accomplished, the Anglo-German 
garrison marched out of the fown. 

The French and American regiments were drawn up in 
battle order on each side of the ramparts ; the English marched 
past with drums beating and their guns at the shoulder, but the 
colours were in their cases. They went to deposit their arms 
at the feet of General Lincoln, who had been defeated at 
Charleston. 

Lord Cornwallis, wishing to hide his 
mortification, had given up his place to 
General O’Hara. Quitting the head of 
his troops, he rode up to Count Rocham- 
beau, who at once divined his intention, 
and hastened to say to him, — 

“It is not for me to receive your sword, 
sir ; I am here as second under General 
Washington, and he will give you his 
orders.’’ 

O’Hara, turning towards Washington, held out his sword ; 
but the general stopped him with a kindly gesture, saying,— 

“ Never from such a good hand.” 

And thus was accomplished this memorable surrender, which 
gave to the Americans, besides an important position, the 



THE SURRENDER OF YORK TOWN, 


293 


entire English army of Virginia, consisting of more than 
7000 men and 22 flags, 275 guns, 457 horses, and 40 ves- 
sels. 

The same day Washington wrote to the President of Con- 
gress this letter, marked with so noble a sentiment of 
modesty: — 

“ I have the honour to inform Congress that the surrender of 
the English army under Lord Cornwallis has been happily 
effected. The inextinguishable ardour which each officer and 
soldier of the allied armies has shown throughout, is the prin- 
cipal cause of this event taking place at a much earlier date 
than my confidence led me to hope. The especial spirit of 
emulation which has animated the army since the commence- 
ment of operations, has given me the liveliest satisfaction, and 
yields the happiest auguries of success.” 

Colonel Tilghman, who was chosen to carry this despatch, 
arrived at Philadelphia in the middle of the night. • Traversing 
the sleeping town at a hand-gallop, he reached the abode of the 
President, and as there was some delay in opening the door, 
he struck the panels again and again with his fist, and 
shouted, — 

“ Wake up ! Cornwallis is taken ! ” 

The door was soon opened to the unexpected messenger ; 
but a watchman, attracted by the noise, had heard the words 
of Colonel Tilghman, and he went on his round announcing 
with all the strength of his lungs the good news to the citizens, 
joining it to his usual cry, — 

“ One o’clock — and Cornwallis is taken 1 ” 

At the magic words the windows opened, the town was soon 


1 


294 the dr UMMER-BO Y. 


wide awake, the streets were filled with an enthusiastic crowd, 
and while the bells pealed and the cannons roared, the pious 
townsfolk rushed into the churches to thank Him who had 
given the victory to their noblest of causes. 



1 


j 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

TO EACH ACCORDING TO HIS WORKS. 

N the 2oth of October, Washington made his entry 
into Yorktown. The unfortunate town had sufifered 
heavily from the rain of bombs and red-hot shot 
which had overwhelmed it for a month from the 
batteries of the allied army. The houses, half gutted, con- 
sisted for the most part of bare walls blackened by the flames, 



Washington made his entry into Yorktown. 




296 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


but from the midst of their ruins the patriotic inhabitants 
saluted the liberator of their country with enthusiastic hurrahs. 

The American general fixed his headquarters in the apart- 
ments occupied before him at the Town Hall by Lord 
Cornwallis. Immediately on his arrival he called together his 
officers to regulate with them the disposal of the prisoners, who 
had to be quartered in the different towns of Pennsylvania and 
Virginia. 

Notwithstanding the annihilation of the army of Lord 
Cornwallis, no one knew what would be the subsequent attitude 
of England. Wishing for peace, Washington prepared to 
continue the war. It was necessary, then, to decide on the plan 
of future operations. 

Baron de I’Estrade was on his way to the council of war, 
when he saw Ralph coming up to him at a run. 

“ Colonel,” said the young man, “ may I ask to leave the town 
for an hour or two, and take La Rainde with me 1 ” 

“ Why all this haste, my young friend ? ” said the colonel 
good-humouredly. What new exploit are you after ? ” 

“No exploit, colonel,” said Ralph, smiling; “but I want to 
obtain news of my old friend David Michaux.” 

“ I thought,” answered Baron de TEstrade, “ that you had 
got him out of prison, when you made your mad rush through 
the enemy’s lines.’’ 

“ Not quite, sir ; but still I think he is in safety.” 

“ Well, go ; but do not be long absent, for I may want you 
during the day.” ^ 

“ I shall be back in an hour,” said Ralph, and he went off at 
the double. 


TO EACH ACCORDING TO HIS WORKS. 297 


Baron de I’Estrade, when he reached the council, found the 
generals occupied in discussing the plan of the future 
campaign. 

“ I do not think,” said Washington, “ that the enemy will 
trouble us for the future. It would be difficult to get Clinton out 
of his entrenchments, and we can hardly expect to see him 
leave New York. The place is strong, and can be continually 
revictualled, particularly if the Comte de Grasse is obliged to 
go off to the help of the Antilles. Our work will be con- 
fined to harassing the enemy, to show him that we are not 
asleep. The final victory depends on the efforts which 
our French and Spanish allies can make through diplomatic 
channels for the recognition of our independence. I reckon a 
good deal for that on Benjamin Franklin, the representative of 
Congress at the court of France. Besides, King George ought 
now to see that the English domination is for ever at an end in 
America.” 

The generals present approved the opinion which had just 
been expressed by Washington. In the eyes of all the 
capitulation of Yorktown would remain the principal work 
of the campaign ; and if the war continued, it would rather be a 
contest of ambassadors, each striving to end the situation in a 
way most advantageous to his country. 

The conversation was in progress, when a lieutenant entered 
and said, — 

“ Our soldiers have just arrested a man whom they have 
recognized as an old officer in the American militia who 
deserted during the campaign. The provost before whom he 
was taken would like to know what is to be done with him,” 


298 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


An officer of our militia a deserter ! ” exclaimed Washington 
with indignation. Let him be shot immediately. No pity 
for those who betray their country’s cause.” 

The lieutenant was retiring to transmit the order to the 
provost, when the American general called him back with— 

“ Bring the man here.” 

A few minutes afterwards the door of the room opened, and 
gave admittance to the culprit. 

Great was the astonishment of those present when they saw 
that the prisoner was no other than Benedict Arnold. 

Sergeant La Ramee and Ralph held him tightly by his arms, 
whilst David Michaux and his son unceremoniously pushed him 
in from behind. 

Pale, or rather livid, trembling with rage, the scoundrel 
resisted as much as he could, and made desperate efforts to 
escape from the grasp of his gaolers. 

As soon as he caught sight of Washington, he haughtily 
spoke to him, — 

“ I appeal to you, sir, against the disgraceful treatment in- 
flicted by your soldiers on a brigadier-general of his Britannic 
Majesty.” 

The American generalissimo contemplated with ill-dissimu- 
lated scorn the traitor as he stood there raging with fury. 

The bystanders, petrified by the unexpected apparition, 
remained mute. 

“Loose the man,” said Washington to those who were 
holding Arnold, and then he added in a pitiless voice to the 
prisoner, — 

“ I do not know what new imposture you dare to add to your 



La Ramee and Ralph held him tightly by the arms 


Page 298 





TO EACH ACCORDING TO HIS WORKS. 299 


crimes, but I cannot believe that the king of England has 
confided so honourable a post to such a man as you.” 

“ I hold my commission from King George himself,” said 
Arnold haughtily. 

“I ignore it,” said Washington. “It has certainly been 
notified to me— but that does not matter in the least. The last 
time I saw you, Mr. Benedict Arnold, you had the honour of 
being a general in the army of the United Colonies of America 
and I myself had entrusted you with the important mission of 
taking charge of West Point, the only arsenal in the Republic. 
That day you did not hesitate to offer me a hand which I believed 
to be loyal, and you sat at my side at table, when, by a treason 
than which history has no viler nor more cowardly, you had 
come from promising to deliver to the enemy your charge, and 
the person of your chief and benefactor. A providential acci- 
dent destroyed your abominable conspiracy, but do you 
think that in escaping like a thief from your house you had 
cheated our justice ? The court-martial composed of your old 
comrades sentenced you to be degraded from your rank, and to 
suffer the infamous death of a traitor. Already your accomplice. 
Major Andre, has undergone the penalty as a man of his 
spirit and merit and a brave officer might be expected to do. 
By what right, sir, do you hope to escape from your just 
punishment? Can you offer us any new argument in your 
defence ? ” 

“ I repeat, sir,” said Arnold with less assurance, “ that I am a 
brigadier-general in the British army.” 

“ And I repeat,” replied Washington, “ that it is not our 
business to verify that assertion. King George cannot look 


300 


THE DRUMMER-BOY. 


upon you as an American officer ; besides, I do not ask you to 
account for what you have done since you were in his service. 
The court-martial condemned you to be hanged like a traitor to 
your country and a felon, and in virtue of the powers which 
1 hold from the Congress of the United Colonies, I order that 
the sentence be immediately carried out. Soldiers, take away 
the man, and hand him over to the provost.” 

And Ralph and his companions seized hold of the scoun- 
drel, who struggled with the fury of despair. 

“ What you are doing to-day,” shouted he to Washington, 
“ is a cowardly and detestable assassination.” 

“ Well, I take the responsibility of it,” said the generalissimo 
quietly, “and I accept in advance the verdict of history 
regarding us. Go, sir, and may God grant that in your last 
hour you may expiate your abominable crime ! ” 

In spite of his resistance, they were carrying off the 
condemned man, when the door of the room again opened, and 
the English Colonel Tarleton entered. He rapidly stepped up 
to Washington, and, saluting him respectfully, said, — 

“ Lord Cornwallis has this moment been informed of the 
arrest by your men of Brigadier-General Benedict Arnold, and 
he has ordered me to remind your Excellency of your promise 
that no harm would be done to any of the Americans who had 
embraced our cause.” 

“ In making that promise,” answered Washington, “ I meant 
that I would respect the life and property of the loyalists. I do 
not see how ex-General Arnold can in any way come under the 
convention. Arnold is a deserter and nothing else, and I claim 
the right of inflicting on him any punishment that he deserves.” 


TO EACH ACCORDING TO HIS WORKS. 301 


“ However,” replied Tarleton, “ I would remark to your 
Excellency that there is no mention of any exception in Arti- 
cle 10 of the capitulation, which was drawn up specially to meet 
this question” 

“ Bring me the text of the capitulation,” said Washington. 

While an aide-de-camp went in search of the document, the 
spectators remained silent and motionless, awaiting the end of 
this dramatic incident. 

Arnold, perceiving a hope of safety, had drawn himself up, 
and cast round him that haughty look which no shame could 
subdue. 

The aide-de-camp returned, bringing with him the authentic 
copy of the capitulation. 

“ Read us Article 10,” said Washington. 

“Article 10. — The natives or inhabitants of all parts of 
this country at present in Yorktown or Gloucester will not be 
punished for having joined the English army — ” 

“What did I tell you, sir ? ” said Tarleton triumphantly. 

“Wait for the end, pray,” said the American general. 

“ The Franco- American delegates,” continued the aide-de- 
camp, “ have struck out this clause, and replaced it by these 
words : ‘ We cannot consent to this article ; it is entirely a civil 
matter.’ ’’ 

“ Is that all, this time ?” asked Washington. 

“ Yes, sir,” replied the aide-de-camp. 

Arnold, overwhelmed, now bowed his head. 

Tarleton, however, without losing courage, replied,-— 

“ I would observe to your Excellency that in the interview 
which followed the signature of the capitulation, you promised 


302 


THE DR UMMER-BO Y. 


to use your clemency towards such of your deserters as fell into 
your hands. In giving his liberty to General Arnold, your 
Excellency will, I know, be conferring a great favour on Lord 
Cornwallis, and receive his warmest thanks.” 

Washington knit his brows, and seemed to hesitate in coming 
to a decision. At length he turned towards Arnold, and said, — 

“In remembrance of the services you formerly rendered to 
our beloved country, and recalling the affection which I once 
had for you, I had hoped that you would proudly accept the 
just verdict of your brothers in arms, and that, like Andrd, you 
would make us forget that he who had been called the hero 
of Behmus had strayed away to become a traitor. Your 
punishment, nobly accepted, would have condoned your fault. 
I see that I thought too highly of you. Go, sir ; I give you your 
liberty. May the contempt of a whole nation be the only 
punishment for your cowardly treason.” 

And addressing Tarleton, he added, — 

“ I give you back this man on condition that this very hour 
you send him on board the Bonetta, and take him to 
England. But by the Holy Name of God, if ever he sets foot 
again on American soil, I swear, even if he is one of King 
George’s field-marshals, that I will treat him as a common 
felon.” 

“ It shall be done as you order, sir,” said Tarleton, who 
saluted the generals and left the room. 

Overwhelmed with such shame, Arnold remained gloomy 
and motionless ; but suddenly he drew himself up, and casting 
a single look of hate around him, he glided from the room like 
a criminal escaping from his dungeon. 


TO EACH ACCORDING TO HIS WORKS, 303 


This unexpected conclusion surprised the spectators, but 
with Ralph the surprise was almost stupefaction. And so all 
his efforts had been useless ; the traitor had escaped ! What 
was the humiliation he had just received to such a scoundrel ? 
Shaking off his shame, he would soon lift up his head, ready, 
no doubt, for new crimes. 

In his disappointment Ralph forgot the motive which had 
brought him into the room where all the chiefs of the army 
were assembled, and he stood there, lost in the bitterest re- 
flections. 

La Ramde recalled him to the reality of his position by 
saying in his ear, — 

Well, youngster, what would you have ? The game’s over. 
Come on.” 

However, Count Rochambeau had noticed the two drum- 
mers, and as they retired he said to Baron de I’Estrade, 
pointing to Ralph, — 

“Is not that the boy you were talking about ?” 

“ Yes,” said the colonel. 

And as Ralph passed the door of the room, Rochambeau 
called out to him, — 

“ Don’t go yet, my lad. I am glad that chance has brought 
you here, for I was going to send for you.” 

Ralph paused, and Rochambeau stepped up to him, and 
taking his hand, led him to Washington. 

“Here, sir,” said he to the general-in-chief, “ is the young 
soldier whose noble conduct I had just been reporting to you.” 

Then, addressing himself to Ralph, Washington said in a 
friendly voice, — 


304 


THE DRUMMER-BOY, 


“I am happy, sir, that the occasion is thus offered me to 
congratulate you on your generous devotion. I know all 
that you have suffered for us, and with what abnegation you 
devoted your life to our cause. In spite of your youth and 
the humble position you occupy, you have under many con- 
ditions shown a courage and presence of mind of which the 
most experienced officers in our army might be proud. And I 
have joined with your gallant colonel in asking a reward for 
your brilliant and loyal services.” 

“ The kind words you have said,” humbly answered Ralph, 
“ are for me, general, a recompense greater than my feeble 
efforts have ever merited.” 

“You will allow me to be the best judge of that,” said 
Rochambeau. 

And again taking our drummer’s hand, he added in a serious 
tone, addressing the officers who surrounded him, — 

“ On the report which has been made to us by the Baron de 
I’Estrade, commanding the Royal Auvergne regiment, and in 
virtue of the powers conferred on us by his Majesty the King 
of France, I announce to you, gentlemen, that it has pleased us- 
to confer on Ralph Haudry, Baron de la Charmoise, here 
present, the rank of ensign in the regiment of Royal Auvergne.” 

A murmur of approbation and pleased surprise greeted the 
Marshal’s words. 

Ralph, with emotion, could only stammer out,— 

“Believe me, count, that I will try to requite by zeal and 
devotion the signal favour which I owe to your kindness.” 

The officers advanced to congratulate him, but De I’Estrade 
opened his arms, and the lad threw himself into them, 


TO EACH ACCORDING TO HIS WORKS. 305 


scarcely able to restrain the tears which welled up into his 
eyes. 

“ Baron de la Charmoise,’* said Rochambeau a moment or 
two afterwards, “ my paymaster will furnish you to-day with riie 
sum necessary for your new equipment.” 

The well-known sensibility of the old drum-major could not 
resist the affecting impression of this scene. However, the 
good La Ramde, intimidated by the presence of the generals, 
gallantly kept back the two tears which danced on his quiver- 
ing eyelids, and had it not been for the feverish trembling of 
the points of his long moustaches, one would have thought 
that he remained indifferent to the triumph of his young friend. 

But when Ralph, having saluted the generals, had quitted 
the room. La Ramee, who followed him, threw himself on his 
neck, and let fall a torrent of tears. 

“ Ah ! Monsieur le Baron ! Ah ! my little Ralph ! ” said he, 
“ you may have found out that I am an old brute, but this is 
the happiest day oi my life 1 ” 


The vounz reader should be told, if he does not already know, that the fore- 
going story of Arnold’s adventures after leaving West Point is almost entirely 

^‘"^Thrfkcts are that Arnold, having read the news of Andre’s capture rode from 
the Robinson House, down a steep bank, to the Hudson, 't.^'ere he stepped into 
a Wge and ordered the men to row down the river. Flyinp flag of truce, he 
. ^ That evening. Seotember as. 1780, he 



S >„ ^^p^eTb /rco^mandeip e'i New 

London, Connecticut. In December, 1781. he sailed for England, and never again 
set his foot in the country whose cause he had betrayed. 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

A LAST WORD. 

HE Americans did well, in celebrating the 
centenary of their emancipation, to date the 
era of their independence from the 19th of Oc- 
tober, 1781, the day of the capitulation of York- 
town. In fact, from that moment England began to treat 
with the rebellious colonies ; and if she did not definitely 
recognize their independence until the 25th of November, 1783, 
the war had virtually finished long months before. 

France had nobly accomplished her work, and had snatched 
the youthful American Hercules from the claws of the British 
lion, as represented on the allegorical medal which was 
struck by Congress. 

The army of Count Rochambeau remained at Williamsburg 
for a year, in inaction which appeared very long and very 
painful to the brave soldiers, and more especially to a 
young ensign of the Royal Auvergne, who was burning to give 
his epaulette its baptism of fire. He had nothing to keep him 
in America. His friend David Michaux had left Yorktown, 
and returned to the forests of the Delaware. Arnold in the 
Bonetta had reached England. 

Ralph longed to get back to France, where he hoped that 




A LAST WORD. 


307 


the events which agitated Europe would afiford him an oppor- 
tunity of adding to the glorious renown of his name. 

“ I have kept the promise I made to my poor mother on her 
death-bed,” thought he, “ if the future will allow me to crown 
my work.” 

At length, on the ist of July, 1782, the French army left 
Virginia and marched slowly northwards, through Pennsyl- 
vania, New York, and Connecticut. On the 24th of December 
the Royal Auvergne embarked at Boston, and as the ship 
left the port, the crowd on the quays saluted the French 
soldiers with — 

“ Vive la France ! Vive la liberte ! ’’ 

Leaning against the nettings, Ralph listened to these accla- 
mations, and pensively gazed at the shore of America, where 
he had been the spectator of such mighty deeds. Gradually 
the coast receded, disappeared, and then the ship doubled 
Cape Cod, and bowing before the freshening breeze, made all 
sail for France. 



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CYOLOPilDIA OF PEESONS AND PLACES. 

Large 12mo, pp. 956, with a very full index, $2.50. 


The Press speaks of it as follotvs 


“When the former work appeared 
we gave to it the heartiest and most 
cordial approval, founding our judg- 
ment upon a somewhat thurougli ex- 
amination of the scheme, and of the 
manner of its execution. . . . We 

have no occasion to hesitate in forming 
a like opinion of Mr. Champlin’s second 
cyclopaedia. . . . This opinion, 

founded as it was solely upon an ex- 
amination of the book with reference 
to the known characteristics of child- 
hood, has since been confirmed, and 
more than confirmed, by observation of 
the use actually made of the cyclopaedia 
by lads and yonng maidens who are its 
owners. We know copies of the woik 
which are in daily use, and to which 
their yonng owners turn instantly for 
information upon every theme about 
which they have questions to ask. More 
than this, we know that some of these 
copies are read daily as well as con- 
sulted, that their owners turn the leaves 
as they might those of a fairy book, 
reading intently articles of which they 
had not thought before seeing them, 
and treating the book simply as one 
capable of furnishing the rarest enter- 
tainment in exhaustless quantities.” 
N. y. Evening PosU 


“ This is a book that has novelty and 
wear in it.” — N, F. Tribune, 

“Opens a new world to the young, 
introducing them to famous persons, 

classic scenes and buildings 

It is copiously illustrated, and printed 
admirably.” — N, E, Journal of Edxt- 
cation, 

“ It makes use of the last census, and 
it embodies the recent discoveries of 
Olympia. The volume, in is suffi- 
ciently large and altogether commend- 
able.” — Boston Advertiser, 

“We have experimented by numer- 
ous references, and find that the mate- 
rial is very judiciously sef^cted, and 
presented to meet what we be>ieve to be 
the wants of young persons,” — N, Y. 
Observer, 

“Mr. Champlin’s work fills a gap 
which no other does. Its sketches of 
persons are vivacious and in the main 
accurate. The illustrations av^e well 
selected and some are novel.” — Spring- 
field Bepublican, 

“A book of to-day. ... An in- 
dispensable aid to the parent who would 
never be ‘stumped’ by a youngster’s 
questionings.”— Dem^^^'rat, 


HENRY HOLT & Co., Publishers 

NEW TORK. 






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